


I Love How You Love Me

by HospitalCorners



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: ...also tender intimate scenes, ...but they probably are!, ...interwoven with flashbacks, F/F, Fluff - tons of fluff, I hesitate to call them 'smut', Modern Setting, cuz I can only really do fluff ;-)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HospitalCorners/pseuds/HospitalCorners
Summary: Patsy and Delia are on the brink of a milestone moment in their long and happy relationship. Told mostly from Delia's point of view, she reflects on some of the key moments in their lives, and what it means to be loved by Patsy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Right, I'm experimenting/winging-it with a modern (ish) story, interwoven with flashbacks to create a whole, with each chapter based on a line from the Paris Sisters song 'I Love How You Love Me'
> 
> Gah - on reading that back, I'm a bit worried that I might just end up tying myself - and you, dear readers - in knots! I've never done it before. Not sure if it'll work.  
> Still, I'm gonna give it a go. I have a rough plan, so hopefully it won't be too disjointed... bear with me if you can ;-)

——————————

_**Saturday the 4th of May 2014** _

The day had dawned blessedly bright and clear. Delia Busby sat at the hotel suite dressing-table and applied the final touches to her hair and make-up.  
She and Patsy had booked themselves in to a spa hotel in Brighton for their special weekend, and had spent most of Friday pampering themselves and sampling as many of the hotel’s varied therapies as they could squeeze in before dinner.

Pausing for a moment now, in front of the mirror, Delia leaned forwards a few inches and scrutinised her reflection.  
She winced slightly at the sight of the elderly face gazing back at her - framed by once raven hair, which was now silver and cut in a much shorter style these days - her reflection often caught her by surprise.  
She never could quite get used to it. Inside, she still felt 26 years old.  
It was at least a kindly face she thought however, with clear blue eyes, undimmed by age, that glittered with the same enthusiasm and humour of her youth.

The evidence of her life was etched clearly for all the world to see in the soft, fine lines that criss-crossed her skin.  
She smiled at herself then, and her dimples deepened… they had gotten her into a few scrapes in her younger days…. not least of which had been catching the eye of one Patience Elizabeth Mount…

She grinned at that thought, and the laughter-lines around her eyes and mouth formed even deeper crinkles - she was particularly proud of those.  
Aside from the few rough patches along the way that most people experience, almost every one of her 77 years had been happy ones.  
And today - well today was going to be the icing on the cake!

She had paused again to select her final choice of lipstick from her make-up bag, when Patsy’s rich, low contralto sounded from the door of the ensuite.  
“How are you coming along old thing? Trix and Babs will be here in an hour or so….”

Patsy had eventually given up smoking 30 years ago (thank God), but the habit had left a lasting effect on her vocal chords. Delia had to admit however, that it was really very alluring - often reminding her of a mature Lauren Bacall...

Delia smiled and twisted around in her chair, to see Patsy wrapped in one of the thick, fluffy hotel robes and leaning against the door frame watching her.  
“Hey - less of the old, thank you very much…” Delia chided softly, “…you do know you’ll always be a few steps ahead of me on that score!” she teased gently, turning to face her love.

“You know, you really should start respecting your elders Busby - but then again - why break a habit of a lifetime…?”  
Patsy flashed that lopsided smile - the one that always did strange things to Delia’s heart - and crossed the room quickly. She stopped by Delia’s chair and rested her hand on the smaller woman’s shoulder, before leaning down and gently touching her lips to Delia’s, “You look lovely Deels” she whispered.

Now in her 81st year, age had not diminished Patsy’s stature.  
In fact, she cut quite an imposing figure. She knew it too, sometimes using it to her advantage when the need arose. Delia loved seeing that in action!  
She still stood tall, and moved with the easy elegance and grace of a considerably younger woman.  
Her skin, although lined with age, was clear and soft, and her high cheekbones were still one of her best features. Her hair was white as snow now (she’d finally stopped colouring it when she’d hit her fifties). She still kept it shoulder length, but always styled it straight and smooth. That and her occasionally stiff, achy joints were the only true indicators of her advancing years.

Those offending joints - her knees in particular - had nearly let her down (quite literally) last summer, in an incident which had led to this very moment…

——————————

_**Wednesday the 17th of July 2013** _

Delia was bustling around the kitchen of their Brighton townhouse preparing dinner. Patsy had inherited the house in her father’s will in 1962, and over the years they’d managed to turn the old place into a warm and welcoming home.

“Sweetheart?”  
Delia called over her shoulder to her partner, who was engrossed, as usual in the Six o’clock News in the conservatory, just off the kitchen.  
“Can you put garlic and red peppers on the shopping list, cariad? We’re almost out…” she called before carrying on intently with her culinary tasks.

Silence.

“Pats?”

No response.

She was about to turn and go through to the conservatory to see if Patsy had nodded off again - when suddenly, she felt long, slender arms encircle her waist.  
She jolted in fright and nearly chopped her index finger instead of the tomato she was working on.

Dropping the knife onto the chopping board, she whirled round, still in the taller woman’s embrace, “Jesus Pats!” she exclaimed, “what are you playing at? I nearly lost a digit!”

Patsy just smiled lopsidedly.  
And then dropped slowly - and with some considerable effort - down onto one knee.

For one horrifying split-second, Delia thought her love might be having some sort of turn, but then Patsy took her left hand, and ran her thumb over the ring on the third finger there.

The she heard her say _Those Words_ :  
“Delia Busby, will you marry me?”

Delia inhaled sharply and blinked.

After what seemed like forever she finally breathed out, “What…?”

Patsy grinned, “Deels - I just heard it on the BBC news - Parliament has passed the Same Sex Marriage Act - we can actually get married!”

Delia’s mind had started to whirl.  
“But we’re already civil partners…”, she stated blankly. She thought back to that day in 2006 when they’d gone into the Registrars Office with Trixie as their witness. They had exchanged vows and rings, and it had been lovely and amazing… if a little low-key…

Patsy’s voice pulled Delia back to the moment:  
“Deels, please don’t let me kneel here any longer… I don’t think my knees - or my heart - can take it… will you marry me?”  
She smiled tentatively and added hopefully “…you can finally have that wedding you always wished for… shall we do it?”

Delia’s mind cleared then, and she gripped Patsy’s hand tightly “Oh God, yes Pats I’d love to - let’s do it!”

Patsy laughed in relief, “Thank goodness, otherwise that would have been rather embarrassing!”

Delia heard herself giggling like a school girl.

“Actually Deels…” Patsy whispered then, still kneeling on the floor, “…this really _is_ embarrassing - I can’t get back up!”

“God Pats…” Delia laughed, bending to help the stricken woman up off the floor “…you really are a fool,” then she added softly, “…a beautiful, soft-hearted old fool - and I love you so much!”

She leaned forwards and tilted her face up towards the now upright Patsy. The taller woman inclined her head downwards and hesitated, before closing the gap a fraction and pausing again, her eyes flitting to and fro between Delia’s eyes and lips. Then she finally leaned in and kissed Delia softly.

Delia felt Patsy’s eyelashes brush lightly against her cheek as her eyes closed, and she was instantly transported back to a very similar, very hesitant kiss that they had shared a lifetime ago, when their love was brand new.

——————————  
**TBC**


	2. I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooh!! It's first-kiss time...!!  
> \-----------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-------------  
> Well, this turned out a bit more angsty than expected... which kind of took me by surprise!  
> ...although, it's not really heavy-angst tbh... and it all gets smothered in fluff at the end...sorry, I can't help myself... ;)  
> ...Edit 04/08/2017.... I've just read some of your lovely comments below (thank you all so much for those btw) after posting this chapter... and I take it back - this chapter is so not 'angsty' - it's too cute to be angst!  
> Ha-ha - in my head this is what passes for angst... who am I kidding?  
> My head is so full of fluff, there just isn't any room for anything else :-D  
> \-------------

**_…Friday the 23rd of August 1957, 10:00pm…_ **

Standing motionless in the middle of her room at the London Hospital nurses home, Delia clutched the bottle of whisky to her chest with one hand and tried to get her breathing under control. She stared down at the two glasses in her other hand hanging limply at her side, and then willed her feet to move her towards the door.

But she was rooted to the spot.  
How long had she been standing there? She thought maybe three or four minutes, but possibly more…  
Her thoughts were lost, whipped around in the tornado of emotions raging inside her head, and her heart was hammering so hard, she though her chest might explode.

She felt faint.  
She couldn’t go on like this - she knew that.  
But how on earth could she say out loud what she was feeling inside? How could she say it - _how could she admit it_ \- to dear, true, beautiful Patsy…?

Beautiful Patsy…  
That was the problem. She couldn’t get the tall, elegant blonde out of her head, and it had been that way for the last three months. Actually, if she was honest, it had started not long after they’d first met on the ward, back in February…. 

* * *

 …Patsy had transferred to the London from West Middlesex Hospital.  
Her first day on the Male Surgical ward had not started well. She’d been clearing away a hurried breakfast in the shared kitchen of the nurses home, when Belinda Fletcher (the clumsiest individual you were ever likely to meet), had barrelled straight into her.How the girl had made it through training without wounding or maiming some poor unfortunate in her care was a mystery to one and all.

 Patsy’s breakfast tray had gone flying, resulting in the remnants of her teacup ending up splattered over the front of her tunic.

She had two choices:   
1\. Change uniform and be late for her first shift.  
2\. Try to hide the offending tea stains under her apron and get herself on duty, post-haste.

For better or worse, and since she hated being late for anything, Patsy had chosen option 2.  
She’d only just pushed her way through the double-doors to the ward however - not even getting as far as the nurses station - before the voice of Matron was heard, foghorn-like across the ward.

“Nurse Mount! STOP. RIGHT. THERE!” she bellowed.

From her position at the nurses station behind Matron, Delia looked up and quickly took in the scene playing out in front of her:  
A tall, blonde nurse was frozen to the spot, looking rather flustered. Matron strode forwards, slightly blocking her view of this rather attractive new arrival. Delia craned her neck slightly - and caught Nurse Mount’s eye for a split-second. She gave the new nurse what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, before Matron continued her barrage.

“What is the meaning of this?” Matron pointed to the stain on Nurse Mount’s tunic, just visible under the edge of her apron.

“I’m so sorry…” Nurse Mount managed to breathe out in a whisper, “there was an accident at breakfast and I didn’t want to be late for my first shift, so…”

“ENOUGH!!” Matron silenced her. “I don’t know what standards you’ve been used to at the West Middlesex” she growled, “but here at the London Hospital this is quite unacceptable!”

The blonde nurse swallowed audibly and risked another quick glance in Delia’s direction.

Delia rolled her eyes and gave a tiny shake of her head.

Matron continued, “Leave the ward immediately. I want you back here in no less than ten minutes - and I want to see your uniform spotless.”

From her position directly behind Matron, Delia pulled a face in an attempt at a caricature of the formidable woman.  
One corner of Nurse Mount’s mouth twitched upwards slightly as she tried to suppress a smile.

Nurse Mount cleared her throat, “Yes, Matron, it won’t happen again,” she affirmed in a clear, cut-glass accent.

Delia was riveted.

“See that it doesn’t,” Matron retorted, “and those ten minutes will be added to your shift.”

Delia was gazing intently at the retreating form of the lovely Nurse Mount, when she heard Matron’s voice again…

Without even turning around, Matron muttered curtly, “As for you, Nurse Busby - the rest of your shift will be spent in the sluice-room - with the bed pans.”

Delia pursed her lips briefly and sighed - did the blasted woman have eyes in the back of her head??

“Yes, Matron,” she replied meekly, and then steeled herself for the loathsome task ahead…

——————————

On her lunch-break, Delia had found Nurse Mount in the canteen, a rather forlorn figure, sitting at a table alone. Acting on impulse, she carried her laden lunch tray towards the table.  
“Hello again Nurse Mount!” she said, smiling brightly as she approached, “would you like some company?”

The blonde nurse looked up, eyebrows raised, ice-blue eyes connecting and holding Delia’s gaze, “Hello - yes, that would be lovely!” then she sighed ruefully and added, “you’d be doing me the most wonderful favour by diverting my thoughts away from the awful start I’ve made here.”

Delia placed her lunch tray down on the table and extended her hand in a mock-formal greeting.  
“Nurse Busby at your service - but you can call me Delia,” she grinned, dimples in full force, “I shall endeavour to do my best to cheer you up!” 

Nurse Mount smiled lopsidedly, and Delia felt her heart flutter disconcertingly in her chest.  
She silently berated herself: Busby, keep it together for goodness’ sake!

The blonde nurse took Delia’s hand in hers, shaking it briskly, “Pleased to meet you Delia, I’m Patience… however, I’m not well known for it, so best just call me Patsy.”

Delia laughed, “Well Patsy, it’s very nice to meet you too,” then she leaned in conspiratorially, “by the way, don’t let Matron rattle you, she just likes an excuse to bluster about the place - the trick is not to give her an excuse.”

Patsy nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Delia grinned “I should really take my own advice - Matron sent me to the sluice-room after you left - I’m on bed-pan duty for the rest of the day.”

Patsy looked aghast, “Oh God no - I’m sorry if I caused that!”

Delia laughed, “No, not at all - that was definitely all me. Sometimes I just can’t help myself!”  
Then without thinking she added, “You know, a small group of us are going out for a few drinks this Friday - you should come.”

Patsy paused for a beat, her calm, blue gaze unwavering.  
Delia had to glance away and clear her throat, “Um, I mean… only if you feel like it… but it might be a good ice-breaker with the other nurses…?” she added, hopefully.

Patsy’s lips slowly curved into a grin, “Yes, I’d like that - when and where are you all meeting?”

“I think around 8 o’clock. Look, what room are you in - why don’t I call for you and we can go together? Delia suggested, a sense of relief washing through her.

“Yes, alright,” Patsy nodded in agreement, “I’m room 12 on the third floor.”

“Ah, that’s just the floor above me - I’m room 8 on the second - how about I knock on your door around a quarter to eight?”

“Great,” Patsy smiled, “I’ll look forward to it.” She checked her fob-watch then and added, “Oh, I really ought to get back - I don’t want to be late twice in one day.” Then she stood up and smiled softly at Delia, “Listen, thank you for cheering me up and making me feel welcome - I’ll see you on Friday - and no doubt on the ward too, when you escape the horrors of the sluice!”

“My pleasure,” Delia returned the smile, “see you Friday!”

Her gaze followed Patsy all the way until she disappeared out into the corridor, and the smile remained on her face for the rest of the day.  
She felt sure that she had just found a great friend in the tall, blonde nurse, and she wondered, did Patsy realise just how much she in turn had cheered Delia?

——————————

…So that was how it had started.  
They’d gone out for drinks with the other nurses and thoroughly enjoyed it. Delia noted however that Patsy visibly relaxed when it was just the two of them chatting together. It was so easy - despite their obviously very different backgrounds - they’d just hit it off right away.

As winter turned to spring, they began to regularly seek each other out. At first they met on lunch breaks, where Delia would often find Patsy outside with a cigarette. Then they began to meet regularly for evenings out whenever they could. Sometimes it would be Delia suggesting a night out, and sometimes Patsy, but it soon became just the two of them, only very occasionally would they socialise with the wider group.

Patsy would often suggest a whisky night-cap in her room after a long shift, or at the end of a pleasant evening out together. It soon became their little routine - sitting on Patsy’s bed and sipping whisky - so much so, that Delia actually went out and bought a bottle of single malt, stashing it in her room so that she could return the favour.

Delia loved their ‘night-caps’, because that’s when they would really talk. Just the two of them. No distractions. No interruptions.  
They talked about anything and everything, likes and dislikes, growing up and everything else in between.  
Patsy could be quite enigmatic when they did socialise with others. She was fun, definitely, but she never gave much away. However, when it was just the two of them, she really opened up.

 Patsy would often start a sentence with “You know Deels - I’ve never told anyone this before…”.  
And Delia loved that. She loved ‘secret Pats’. She loved that she was the only person who got to see that. The more she found out, the more she began to really admire her friend.

“Pats, how is it that you don’t have a chap?” Delia blurted out one evening. She’d had a couple of glasses of the strong, amber liquid and her mouth seemed to be operating independently of her brain.

Patsy simply arched an eyebrow.

Delia blushed crimson, “God Pats, I’m sorry - that’s none of my business - I don’t know why I asked that!”  
Except, deep down she knew exactly why she’d asked…

Gazing intently at Delia over the rim of her whisky glass, Patsy chuckled, “I’ve never really had any time for that Deels - and you know, I could ask you the very same thing!”

Delia blushed deeper still and had to glance away from the intense ice-blue, “Oh, I’m the same Pats - just no time for all that business…”  
She very much doubted that she and Patsy were the same at all…

One evening in early summer, they’d met for a night out.  
It had been fun, but Delia could tell something was bothering Patsy - she could detect a sadness lurking under her friend’s bright exterior. Later, back at the nurses home, when Delia had joined Patsy for their night-cap, the tall woman was so very subdued, that Delia asked the question she’d wanted to ask all evening.

“Pats, what’s wrong?”

And that was when Patsy told her about the prisoner of war camp.  
Today was the day that Patsy used each year to remember her mother and sister. Delia sat quietly and let her friend talk, only asking a quiet question here or there, where necessary. She absorbed it all, and when Patsy finally broke down and the sobs were shuddering through her body, Delia shuffled in closer and held her friend in a comforting embrace. Patsy’s arms encircled Delia’s waist and held on tight, and her head rested on Delia’s shoulder until the shuddering eventually subsided.

After a while Patsy sniffed and straightened up, easing herself out of the embrace.  
“I’m so sorry…” she whispered. Then she wiped her eyes and laughed softly, adding “I cried on your shoulder…”

Delia took Patsy’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently, “Oh Cariad, you can have my shoulder to cry on whenever you like,” smiling softly she added “…just don’t make too much of a habit of it - I can’t bear to see you sad!”

A slight frown creased Patsy’s forehead, her eyes dropped down to her hands still held in Delia’s and then lifted back up again to meet Delia’s gaze, “What’s Cariad?” she whispered.

“Oh, um… it’s just a Welsh term of endearment - it means… sweetheart… amongst other things…” Delia cleared her throat and glanced away.

Patsy smiled then and pulled Delia into a quick hug, “Deels, I really don’t know what I’d do without you!”

 ——————————

…Since then - the last few weeks in particular - had been a kind of exquisite torture for Delia.  
Soon after those emotional revelations, Patsy became much more tactile around Delia - although, only ever when they were alone. Delia began to notice Patsy frequently touching her lightly, perhaps brushing arms or lightly touching her shoulder. Even offering the occasional parting hug that lingered a beat longer than was strictly necessary, as Delia left for her own room.

Delia was unsure how to respond.  
She was terrified of giving herself away, of giving off the ‘wrong’ signals. But wasn’t Patsy sending out similar, subtle signals?  
Maybe… but Delia really couldn’t be sure…

Sometimes she would actually flinch slightly when Patsy touched her unexpectedly, not out of revulsion - far from it - but rather from the very pleasant reaction her body had to those touches. Her whole being hummed with strange kind of electricity whenever she was around Patsy now, and she began to crave those touches. She was painfully aware that her feelings for her beautiful friend and colleague had rapidly changed from those of a close friendship to something much, much more. 

Love?  
It must be, for Patsy was consuming her waking thoughts and was becoming the principal player in her fevered, nocturnal imaginings. And it wasn’t just her outward beauty which enthralled Delia. Patsy was loyal, honest and strong, and buried deep inside the sometimes prickly exterior, Delia had found the kindest, most caring heart.

In fact, the most fragile of hearts had slowly been revealed, and Delia had almost convinced herself that she could be the one to protect it…

…Who was she kidding? She knew that could never happen. How could it??  
But she loved Patsy - really loved her - she knew that too.

Oh God, what was she to do?  
She’d always known that she was different. From a very young age she’d realised that she had no interest in boys whatsoever, instead, much preferring the company of her own sex. In her teens she’d had what you’d call ‘crushes’ on some of the older girls at school… followed by a fairly serious one on her lovely music teacher… but, she’d never acted on her feelings. She’d always managed to control them in the end.

Not this time however. Not with Patsy.

——————————

**_Friday the 23rd of August 1957, 7:30pm…_ **

The week had been fraught with hard shifts on the wards, and they’d arranged a night out together as an antidote.

So far, for Delia at least, the evening had been excruciating.  
She and Patsy had gone for a few drinks up West and then caught a showing of ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ at the Roxburgh.  
In the little pub next to the picture house, Delia had caught herself openly staring at Patsy as she had ordered their drinks at the bar. She’d only just managed to tear her eyes away from the tall blonde - and gaze casually (hopefully) out of the window - before Patsy had turned and brought their drinks back to their table.

They’d sipped their drinks and chatted easily as usual, but Delia was aware of her eyes doing strange things. She couldn’t control them. They kept flitting about, roaming all over Patsy’s face before riveting themselves to her lips. They’d repeat that journey every time she spoke, and always in the end, fix firmly on those lips.

Those full, ruby-red lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss them… they’d be so soft and warm…

“Delia?”

Patsy’s voice filtered through and Delia blinked, quickly casting her gaze elsewhere…

“…Deels, shall we go and get our tickets now? It’d be a shame to miss the start of the film…”

Inside the cinema, the lights were just dimming and they hurried to find a pair of seats next to each other before the film started.  
They slid quietly into two seats in the second from back row, just as the opening credits rolled. Patsy reached over to briefly squeeze Delia’s hand, “We made it Deels, just in time!”

Delia nodded and smiled - and wished Patsy would keep holding her hand… no one would notice in the dark of the cinema - would they…?  
The film went by in a blur, and if someone had asked Delia later what it was about, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Not even the significant attributes of Marilyn Monroe were enough to hold her attention.

Delia was wholly taken with Patsy.  
She watched Patsy watching the film from the corner of her eye. Occasionally she would turn her head ever so slightly to gaze rapt, as flickering lights and shadows from the film projection washed over her profile. More than once she almost leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. The urge to lean in and whisper “I love you” was unbearable.

The forty-five minute bus ride back to the nurses home wasn’t much better.  
She spent the whole journey staring out of the window in a futile attempt at calming her torrid mind. The feeling of Patsy’s warm thigh resting gently against hers however - and her body’s involuntary reaction to that - meant that all coherent though was impossible.

Her heart was pounding and fluttering about in her chest. The nurse in her noted the elevated heart-rate and rapid breathing… anxiety attack…?

“Deels, are you quite alright?”

Delia visibly started.

“It’s just… you’ve been awfully quiet all evening - are you feeling alright?” Patsy continued, placing a hand lightly on Delia’s shoulder.

Delia turned to meet Patsy’s gaze, and caught the look of concern there. She managed a smile and a nod, “Oh, I’m fine Pats. Just a bit tired - I think the week has finally caught up with me.”

Patsy smiled softly and gave Delia’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I know - and Matron has been an absolute tyrant this week, hasn’t she?”  
Then she tilted her head slightly, and holding Delia’s gaze added softly, “this evening has been lovely though Deels - your company really is a salve for the soul.”

They made it back to the nurses home just before the 10:00pm curfew.  
Hurrying up the stairs, Patsy paused at the landing to Delia’s floor, “I’d suggest a night-cap…” she offered and then smiled sheepishly, “…but I’m all out of Johnny Walker…”

Before Delia had time to think, she heard herself say, “Oh, I’ve got a nice single-malt stashed away in my room - shall I bring it up?”

“Deels, you dark horse!” Patsy narrowed her eyes, “mine in two minutes… see you there - and don’t be long!” she ordered, flashing her lop-sided smile. 

Delia’s heart soared and simultaneously clenched at that smile - and then plummeted two flights into the basement.

_ Oh God… _

* * *

******…10:07pm…**  
Standing, frozen to the spot in the middle of her room, tears began to gather and pool on Delia’s lower eyelids.  
She clutched the whisky bottle tighter and sniffed - she couldn’t go on like this. It was slowly driving her mad. She had to tell Patsy the truth, but the consequences of that truth were almost too much for Delia to contemplate.

Patsy’s friendship alone was so dear to her and she feared it would break her to lose it.  
If she made her true feelings known, Patsy would surely walk away…

Just then, there was a soft rap on the door - and then it pushed slowly open.  
Patsy. Peering round the edge.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, “I was beginning to think you might have gone to Scotland for that whisky…” she faltered as she caught the stricken look on Delia’s face.  
Patsy quickly stepped inside the room and closed the door softly behind her, then caught Delia’s gaze again just as the dam of suspended tears burst over the small brunette’s lower eyelids.

“Deels, old thing! Heavens - what’s the matter?” she whispered softly.

“Oh, Pats!” Delia choked, her face crumpling in anguish.

Patsy strode quickly to the centre of the room, “Here, let me take those…”  
She gently eased the whisky bottle and glasses out of Delia’s grasp and placed them out of the way on the small dressing table. Then she crossed the room again and pulled Delia into a tight, enveloping hug.

Delia collapsed against the warmth of Patsy, her sobs muffled into the taller woman’s shoulder.  
They stood like that for a while, Delia relishing the warmth and comfort of the embrace. Drawing strength from it.  
Gradually, she managed to compose herself a little and gently straightened herself. Patsy detected the movement, loosened the hug and took a half-step back, giving Delia some space.

Delia sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and then gazed at the floor.

“Here take this…” Patsy’s voice was soft and her outstretch hand offered a handkerchief, “…and won’t you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Delia took the offered handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.  
“I don’t know how to tell you…” barely a whisper.

“You could start at the beginning?” Patsy gently suggested.

Delia shook her head, “I can’t tell you…Patsy, I don’t want you to hate me…”

A look of concern flashed across Patsy’s features, but she waited for Delia to finish.

“I could cope if you never wanted to talk to me again…” Delia’s voice caught, and she swallowed audibly, “…but I couldn’t bear it if you hated me.”

Patsy stepped closer, “Delia, what could you possibly have done that would make me hate you?” disbelief making her voice rise slightly.

“It’s not what I’ve done,” Delia dropped her gaze to the floor, “it’s what I _want_ to do,” she stated quietly.

When there was no response for a few moments, Delia slowly raised her eyes.  
Patsy was gazing at her steadily.  
However, the taller woman’s chest was rising and falling at a rate that was at odds with her outward calm.

Delia’s tears formed rapidly again and began to tumble freely down her cheeks.  
“Patsy please…” her eyes were imploring, “…I really… I mean, I really want to…I think I’m in…” she stammered on, unable to say the words and aware she was making no sense, “…Oh God, please don’t hate me…”

“Hush Delia, hush - it’s OK.” Patsy finally whispered.

“Patsy, I don’t think you understand what I’m…”

Patsy nodded, “Delia. _It’s OK._ ”

“Pats, I’m not really explaining mysel…”

She was cut off as Patsy suddenly stepped closer still and gently cupped Delia’s face in her hands.  
Delia jumped slightly and then froze. Her breath held. Her gaze riveted to Patsy’s ice-blue.

Patsy used her thumbs to gently wipe away Delia’s tears.  
“Deels. It’s OK - I know,” she whispered, “I’m the same.”

Delia blinked and then frowned, and the breath that she’d been holding left her in barely a whisper, “what…?  
  
She was frowning still when Patsy slowly tilted her face down towards hers, and then hesitated.  
So close.  
Those full lips hovering tantalisingly close.

Patsy flicked her eyes quickly down to Delia’s lips and then back up to ocean-blue eyes, wide with disbelief.  
She smiled softly and then closed the tiny gap that remained between them by touching her lips gently to Delia’s.

Delia’s heart contracted suddenly - almost painfully.  
Eyes still wide, she inhaled deeply through her nose, and with her lips still against Patsy’s, she heard herself let out a kind of soft ‘mewl’… she’d never made that kind of noise before…

She felt Patsy’s lips press more firmly against hers and watched as her eyes slowly closed.  Eyelashes brushing delicately against Delia’s cheek - she watched Patsy lose herself in the kiss.  
She snaked her arms around Patsy’s waist and pushed her whole body against the taller woman, revelling in the warmth she found there. Then following Patsy’s lead, she closed her own eyes, parted her lips and allowed the kiss to deepen.

She had been right - Patsy’s lips were wonderfully soft and warm - but the sensations that the kiss set free were a complete revelation to her. A deliciously warm wave rushed from her head to her toes, flipping her heart over on the way down and causing a hot shiver somewhere deep inside…

Patsy’s own responses were captivating.  
Delia could feel the taller woman’s chest rising and falling rapidly against her own… a heartbeat strong and ardent… warm hands on the back of her head, fingers in her hair… every so often uttering a low “Mmmmm” sound which vibrated through her lips… in turn making Delia’s lips tingle delightfully…

Suddenly the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm her.  
Patsy. Beautiful Patsy was kissing her. She was kissing Patsy…  
Her knees suddenly felt like jelly. She didn’t think her legs would hold her much longer. She needed to breathe.

She brought her hands up to Patsy’s chest and gently pushed herself out of the kiss. As their lips parted and Delia backed away a fraction, Patsy instinctively pursued, nuzzling tenderly, her nose lightly brushing against Delia’s. She finally opened her eyes and sighed softly, “Oh Delia - I’ve wanted to do that for so long…”

Delia reached up and touched her fingers briefly to Patsy’s lips. “Me too…” Then she chuckled softly and added, “…and I’ve been tying myself in knots over it for weeks now - it was just so difficult to read you!”

“Me too!” Patsy affirmed, “I wish I’d said something sooner - I’m sorry - I was just terrified I’d ruin everything…”

Delia smiled softly, “Me too”

Patsy drew Delia close again, encircling her waist with her arms and clasping her hands in the small of Delia’s back. She smiled that lop-sided smile and chuckled “Well, aren’t we a pair… seems like we’re made for each other!”

Delia rested her head on Patsy’s chest and listened to her heart for a few beats, “What do we do now?” she asked quietly.

Patsy’s voice reverberated low through her chest “Tomorrow, or the day after - or the day after that? I don’t know…” Then she brought a hand up and hooked her index finger under Delia’s chin and added, “… but I know what I’d like to do right now...”

“Have a tot of that single-malt…?” Delia smiled shyly.

“Nope." Patsy shook her head, "I'd like something sweeter…”

And with that, Delia found herself in Patsy’s embrace again, soft lips seeking hers.  
  
Willingly losing herself in the warmth of Patsy and the kiss.

——————————

**TBC**

——————————


	3. And when I’m away from you I love how you miss me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy has just gotten off the slow-boat from China... but why didn't she write...?
> 
>    
> There's fluff - of course!  
> And also an intimate little love scene...  
> This chapter has taken ages to write for one reason or another... life (happily) ..work (not so much)... - but anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

 

**_Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 11:00am_ **

Still with her hand resting on Delia’s shoulder, Patsy leaned down again and placed a soft kiss on the top of her love’s head.  
“You look lovely Deels,” she whispered, but I may have smudged your make-up slightly” she lifted her other hand and used her thumb to gently wipe away a small smear of lipstick, “sorry…”

Bringing her hand up to rest over Patsy’s, Delia smiled softly “Never apologise for smudging my lipstick Cariad,” she ran her fingers over Patsy’s knuckles and added, “there’s still plenty of time for me to re-apply.”

 Patsy gently squeezed Delia’s hand, “did you remember to bring the record for our ‘First Dance’?”

 “Pats - no one does vinyl nowadays. Well, apart from the hipsters that is. And us.” Delia chuckled, “It’s all MP3s and streaming now. Idownloaded the songs and emailed them to the DJ chap last week.”

 Patsy rolled her eyes exaggeratedly “that whole sentence made absolutely no sense to me at all - and I remain unapologetically analogue!”

 “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have you any other way!” Delia grinned, and recalled one of Patsy’s finer ‘analogue’ moments…

 

* * *

 

**_Nonnatus House, Poplar, November 1962, 5:30am_ **

Delia shifted, stretching slightly under the covers and blankets of her bed, and revelled in the deliciously cozy, cocoon-like space she found herself in.  
Britain was in the grips of what felt like a new ice-age, and the streets of Poplar were buried under thick drifts of snow several feet deep.  
All the residents of Nonnatus had been issued with extra woollen blankets to stave-off the cold and Delia snuggled down deeper into hers - and moved closer against the warm body that shared them with her.

As she moved under the covers, she took a moment to savour the extra weight of the blankets and the roughness of the material against her bare skin - an unfamiliar and surprisingly pleasant sensation - and then cracked open her eyes.  
Her heart fluttered as she found herself a mere breath away from a smooth, alabaster-skinned back, the tip of her nose just touching the soft skin between two defined shoulder blades, her dark-chocolate locks interwoven with bright copper strewn on the pillows. She breathed in deeply and sighed, smiling contentedly at the comforting scent filling her nostrils: warm, sweet vanilla and coffee.

With an undertone of tobacco and cleaning products.

Patsy.

She’d dreamt of this moment almost constantly throughout the long, lonely months they’d been apart.

Breathing in again, she detected a faint hint of something else lingering on her love’s skin and under the covers. A hint of something warm and salty. Something alluding to hot tears and hotter bodies moving urgently against one another. Of skin on skin.  
The memory of their lovemaking sent a renewed flush of hot desire coiling suddenly and tightly, deep inside her core. She felt the involuntary heat reach her cheeks, and she slid her arm up over Patsy’s hips and around her waist, hugging her closer still, until their bodies were almost as one again. Connected.

Patsy hardly stirred.  
She must be utterly exhausted, Delia thought then. The tortuous three-week boat trip, followed by yesterday’s emotional reunion - and then spending the night together…

Delia flushed again.  
It had not been her intention to fall immediately into bed with Patsy…

 

* * *

The maelstrom of emotions that had whirled inside her over that last few weeks had magnified ten-fold upon their unexpected on-street meeting, and had taken Delia entirely by surprise.

The emotions that had shocked and worried her the most were the sudden flashes of anger she’d felt.  
Why hadn’t Patsy telephoned, or at the very least responded to Delia’s letters?  
Why hadn’t she fought to keep the threads from breaking?

….And then last night Patsy had turned it all upside down again - had grabbed her firmly by the collar - pulling her in, and they’d kissed, fast and firm, right there in the street. The urgency of that kiss and the deep, desperate need behind it had almost overwhelmed Delia. She’d never felt that kind of intensity from Patsy before.

Then, as they’d walked through the square, past the merry-go-round towards the doors of Nonnatus, there was the onslaught of welcoming hugs and greetings.  
The excitement of the wanderer returned. But for Delia, all she’d wanted right then was to get Patsy inside, away from all the others.  
She’d wanted to be the first to welcome her home.

Eventually, they did finally make it through those heavy wooden doors, shutting out and muting the hubbub from the street.

Just the two of them.  
They stood for a moment in the calm silence of the empty hallway, backs resting against the solid wood, listening to the clamour of their own heartbeats.

Delia glanced sideways, “I could run you a bath… If you’d like?” she’d whispered hesitantly.

Patsy’s eyes met hers, “I’d like that. Very much.” came the soft reply.

A short while later, with a soft nock on Delia’s door, Patsy had hesitantly entered, robe-clad and scrubbed clean of travel grime, her head wrapped in a towel.  
Delia, propped up on her bed, book in hand, looked up and smiled softly, “I can’t quite believe you’re really here…”  
She leaned over and placed the book on her bedside table, her smile fading.  
She really wanted to say how worried she’d been at the lack of contact - how she thought she was losing the love of her life - how she’d started to slowly unravel…

But that would have sounded so churlish and selfish in the face of all that Patsy had just been through. Instead she chewed her lower lip, dropped her eyes to her lap and asked quietly, “Will you be sharing with Phyllis tonight? Barbara’s is the only bed available now.”

Silence.  
Then a soft sniff.

She looked up then to see tears brimming over Patsy’s eyelashes and tumbling down her cheeks.  
Suddenly remorseful at her unspoken thoughts, Delia sprang up off the bed and wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s waist, gripping her in a tight hug

“Oh Pats, I’m sorry!”

Patsy put her arms around Delia’s shoulders and held on tight , “Please Deels,” she whispered,“it is I who should apologise… I know that this has hurt you - it has hurt both of us.” Pulling out of the hug slightly, she caught Delia’s ocean-blue gaze and held it, “I can’t bear the thought of spending another night away from you - not when you’re right here, under the very same roof….” then leaning closer again she added, “I want, I … _need_ to sleep here tonight.”

Delia’s heart was pounding in her chest.  
The nearness of Patsy was intoxicating.  
“But won’t everyone wonder where you’ve gotten to - where we’ve both gotten to?” she heard herself whisper, taking the unfamiliar stance of caution.

“They’re all out having so much fun, I doubt anyone will even notice. And anyway - I don’t care what they might think!” Patsy’s voice was hoarse with raw emotion, “God, I’ve missed you so much Delia! I really need to be with you tonight...”

At that, the last of Delia’s rapidly eroding resolve finally crumbled, all her pent-up longing burst free and she stood up on her toes, closing the tiny gap separating their faces, and took Patsy’s lips in a long, lingering kiss.

Those lips were so soft. Lord, how she’d missed them!  
She felt Patsy’s body push against her, warm and solid and very real, felt hands on the back of her head, felt the kiss deepening. She pushed her whole body into Patsy’s, bumping her firmly back into the door which rattled softly. Somehow, she managed to regain a split-second of clarity and had the presence of mind to turn the key in the lock with a secure ‘click’. Then the powerful need to re-establish their physical connection took over.

Clothes were quickly discarded and thrown to the floor. Patsy made quick work of freeing Delia’s hair from its elaborate bun, before lifting a thick, glossy handful to her face and inhaling deeply. Then Delia found herself wrapped tightly in Patsy’s arms and they toppled onto the bed.

What followed was intense and urgent and an almost complete sensory overload for Delia.  
Pushed back into the covers she closed her eyes and felt Patsy’s weight bearing down on her. She almost couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, but she craved every inch of skin-to-skin contact, so she wrapped her arms around her and pulled Patsy closer still. She felt warm lips and hot breath feathering down over her neck… over her shoulder… soft, warm breasts pressing against her own. Exploring lips and long, dextrous fingers deftly teasing her skin, sending shivers of intense pleasure flurrying through her chest and abdomen, and a deliciously hot, tingling heat spreading rapidly in her pelvis.

The sweet, earthy scent of her lover’s skin was filling her nostrils when she felt Patsy’s knee pushing gently between hers, separating her legs. She parted her legs further, allowing Patsy’s thigh to contact firmly on her groin - right on the spot where she needed it most.

The tingling, hot coil of pleasure inside her tightened instantly. God, it felt so good!  
As Patsy began to slowly move against her, she very nearly came undone right then. But that wouldn’t do - she needed to wait for Patsy to get there too - so she shifted her own thigh slightly and wedged it tightly between her lover’s legs.

Both women inhaled sharply, opening their eyes and holding the other’s gaze. Patsy was slick with desire. They both were. Then they began moving against one another… pelvises rocking together… slowly at first.

Delia gripped Patsy around the shoulders with one hand, the other in her hair, fingers tangled in still-damp, copper tresses.  
Whispering urgently against her lover’s ear “Mmmm… God Pats - harder please!”

Patsy obliged and Delia felt herself tingle and tighten to the point where she could bear it no longer. She drew in a deep breath and held it, eyes tightly shut, and then allowed the exquisite release to surge through her, all the way from her toes and up through her whole body, ending finally in an intense explosion of pleasure in her brain. Eyes flicking open, fingers gripping Patsy tightly, her climax left her body in a soft hiss through clenched teeth against Patsy’s shoulder.

Even as her own climax subsided, Patsy reached hers.  
Feeling her lover’s rapid breaths becoming erratic against her skin, Delia quickly shifted her hands down into the small of Patsy’s back. She applied pressure there and at the same time lifted her thigh and hips a little more to maximise the contact for Patsy. Almost immediately Patsy came, with a shuddering low moan, muffled into the pillows.

Delia held her tightly as the ripples of pleasures slowly subsided.  
She felt warm, soft lips and hot breath against her neck as Patsy regained her senses and whispered, “I love you Delia.”  
At those simple heart-felt words, Delia felt such a wave of emotion surge through her that she couldn’t stop the hot salty tears from springing up suddenly and trickling down her face. 

Continuing her soft whisperings and kissing her face, Patsy must have tasted them because she paused and pulled back a fraction.

“Oh Deels… what’s wrong? God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

She was cut off however, as Delia smiled and began laughing softly through her tears.  
“Nothing is wrong cariad,” she sighed, pulling Patsy down and holding her again, “everything is right,” she murmured and placed a soft kiss into Patsy’s hair.

They lay contentedly in a tangle of limbs for a while until the cold November air began to chill their skin, forcing them to seek the refuge of the bed covers.  
Snuggling down together, they held each other as they drifted off into a warm, blissful sleep.

 

* * *

Delia finally managed to reluctantly drag herself out of bed by 6:15am and make her way down to breakfast.

Patsy had not stirred, her soft steady breathing uninterrupted as Delia had slipped out from under the covers to get ready for her day shift. Delia fretted slightly about leaving Patsy here in her room, but there was nothing else for it. The risk of her being seen leaving now was far too high, what with all the morning hustle and bustle in Nonnatus. Best to just leave her be.

The breakfast table was surprisingly vibrant given that the celebrations had lasted long into the previous evening. All her colleagues looked relatively bright and ready for the busy day ahead as Delia pulled up a chair. She hoped her bleary-eyed and slightly ruffled demeanour wouldn’t give her away as she reached across the table for the coffee pot.

As if reading her mind, Valerie piped up cheerily, “Morning Delia - where’s Patsy? I only spoke to her very briefly last night and it’ll be nice to meet her properly today.”

Delia swallowed thickly around a suddenly very dry mouthful of toast, “Oh um… she’s err… ah, she’s…” She stammered and faltered. Her brain refused to get out of neutral and the heat of a deep blush rushed to her cheeks.

Oh God…

Just then she felt a foot gently bumping hers under the table.  
Looking up, she saw Phyllis gazing at her steadily, before clearing her throat and briskly informing the table:

“Nurse Mount is getting some well earned shut-eye. She took Barbara’s bed last night and I’ve left her there to rest until she meets with Sister Julienne later today to discuss the resumption of her duties. There will be ample time for us all to catch up with her over dinner this evening.”

Phyllis glanced briefly back to Delia - a soft glint of sympathy in her eyes - before carrying on with her breakfast.

 

* * *

With breakfast over, the day began in earnest - the midwives all grabbing their equipment bags and heading out on their rounds.

Delia herself was about head off to the maternity hospital, cape fastened and straightening her hat, when Phyllis stopped her in the hallway.

“Oh, Nurse Busby - a word please.”

Delia’s heart clenched in apprehension as she turned to face the formidable senior midwife. Phyllis smiled gently then pursed her lips as she considered how best to put what she needed to say.

“Delia… kid…” she began quietly. “I know the last few months have been hard on you. On both of you.” Then she raised her eyebrows, gazing pointedly at Delia and added, “but you two really _must_ be careful…”

Delia, blushing yet again this morning with what must have been the deepest shade of crimson so far, managed to stammer, “Phyllis, I know… I’m so sorry…”

Phyllis held up a sliencing finger and continued, “…which is going to be difficult given the current accommodation situation. That is why I’m going to suggest to Sister Julienne today that you and I swap rooms.”

Delia, barely able to believe what she’d just heard, simply stared at the kindly senior midwife.

Phyllis cleared her throat, “Yes. Well. I think that will be a much better solution for all concerned,” then added with another pointed look, “but you must still _be careful._ ” And with that she turned on her heel and bustled off back down the hallway.

Delia let out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and gathered herself, in an attempt to process what had just happened.  
She checked her watch. Realised she’d be late if she didn’t get a move-on and barrelled out through the heavy front doors almost knocking over the postman in the process.

“Oi - careful!” he shouted, side-stepping just in time.

“Oops - sorry!” Delia cried over her shoulder before hurrying off to begin her shift.

 

* * *

Her day on the wards had mercifully flown by and she was pleased changeover time came round so quickly.

She couldn’t wait to get back and tell Patsy about their new sleeping arrangements and finally have the privacy for the two of them to really talk about what happened in Hong Kong.

She skipped up the front steps of Nonnatus and pushed through the front doors, pulling off her hat and loosening her cape as she went.  
She only made it as far as the second stair heading up to the landing however, when she heard Trixie’s voice calling her name from the kitchen.

“Delia? Is that you sweetie - do you have a moment?”

Delia turned to see the normally bubbly blonde midwife looking rather serious in the kitchen doorway.

“Of course - what’s up?” she replied, making her way quickly to the kitchen.

She could sense immediately that something wasn’t quite right.  
Trixie’s stance was tense and she gripped a battered package in her hands - which had clearly been opened.

“Trixie… what’s that…?” Delia’s eyes were riveted to the parcel and a sudden sense of dread appeared out of nowhere and wormed it’s way into the pit of her stomach.

Trixie lowered her eyes to the torn brown-paper parcel in her hands.  
It was thin and flat, and about seven inches square, and Delia could see part of a worn and torn airmail stamp in one corner…

Trixie looked up sheepishly, “I wanted to speak to you alone before the others arrived. I’m terribly sorry Delia, this arrived in the morning post… and I opened it thinking it was for me… but it’s actually for you… and it’s from Patsy… it must have gotten lost in the post because the name and most of the address is missing….”

Delia was frozen to the spot, a cold sweat forming under the collar of her uniform. Oh God, she knew. Trixie knew.

Barely stopping for breath Trixie babbled on, “….I only assumed it was for me because I’m in the Elvis fan club and they occasionally send special editions of his records… and it is the right shape for a record after all… actually it _is_ a record - just not Elvis… and so then I read the note that came with it… and I’d read most of it before I realised what it _really_ was… and then…” she faltered and added softly, “…well, then I read all of it.”

Trixie gazed steadily at Delia then, “I’m so very sorry.” She said it quietly and sincerely.

Heart pounding thunderously, and unable to speak, Delia simply held out a shaking hand as Trixie stepped meekly forwards, placing the tattered parcel into her open palm.  
Then the blonde midwife rubbed Delia’s arm gently and smiled softly.

“For what it’s worth… she loves you very, very much, and that’s worth more than anything else in the world actually. I envy you.”  
Then she added quietly, “I can only imagine how very hard it must be for you both to have to hide such a love, but I want you to know that you don’t have to hide it from me.”

Delia still hadn’t regained the power of speech and stood dumb-struck, heart still hammering crazily in her chest and clinging to the package as though it were the only life-raft in a storm-lashed ocean.

“Delia? Sweetie - can you forgive me …?” Trixie’s worried voice bringing her back to the moment.

Delia simply nodded.

Trixie let out a sigh of relief, “…would you like to borrow my dancette? To listen to the record?”

Delia blinked and nodded again, this time with the ghost of a smile tugging ever so slightly at one corner of her mouth.

Trixie smiled hesitantly then, “OK - I’ll go and get it for you…”

As Trixie was disappearing out into the hall, Delia finally found her voice, “Trixie?” she whispered hoarsely, “Where’s Patsy?”

Trixie stopped and turned in the doorway, “She’s still in Sister Julienne’s office.”

“Does she know?” Delia asked quietly.

Trixie sighed, “No, I haven’t seen her yet to tell her,” then added ruefully, “to apologise…”

Finally, Delia smiled too, “It’s OK, I’ll tell her if you like?”

“Would you?” Trixie breathed another sigh of relief.

Delia grinned then - Trixie’s heart was always in the right place, “Yes, and I’m pretty sure she’ll still want to be your friend.”  
Then she added, “Look, why don’t you pop up to my room after dinner and you can catch up with her properly? You’re her best friend after all and she’ll be dying to see you.”

Trixie nodded enthusiastically and beamed her brightest smile, “Yes, I’d love that! Thank you Delia,” before turning and making her way out into the hallway.

Delia shook her head briefly and watched her retreating figure, then without thinking called after her, “Trixie? The Elvis fan club?? Really???”

“We all have our secrets, sweetie!” came the retort from the hall.

 

* * *

A short while later, Delia stood alone in her room.

She crossed to her dressing table where Trixie’s dancette now sat, alongside the package from Patsy.  
Lifting the small brown-paper-wrapped item, she turned it over in her hands, noting the scuffs and rips in the wrapping. Pretty much all of the address was indeed obliterated. 

It looked as though it had been shunted from pillar to post for weeks on end. Clearly it had, since Patsy had managed to arrive home before it. How it had found its way here at all was nothing short of miraculous. She resolved to thank the poor postman next time she saw him…

She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, half expecting it to have retained some essence of Patsy.  
It didn’t - there was only the slightly musty smell of brown paper.

Then, with shaking hands, she slid two fingers inside the fragile wrapping and carefully removed the contents.  
There were two pieces of stiff cardboard forming a sandwich around a seven-inch record and a hand-written note. There was no doubt in Delia’s mind that Patsy’s foresight and care in protecting the fragile items had been the only reason they had reach their intended recipient in one piece.

She examined the record, turning it in her hands, being careful not to touch the playing surface.  
It was in surprisingly good condition considering its globe-trotting journey, only missing it’s sleeve… and its centre-hole had been punched out…

That meant only one thing: it had once belonged in a juke box… and it would be unplayable… unless…

She quickly glanced over to the dancette and was relieved to see the little circular adapter, which was meant exactly for ex-juke box records, nestling snuggly in its little holder beside the turntable.

Turning her attention back to the record, she squinted slightly and read small print on the A-side label:

 _‘It might as well rain until September’_ Carole King.  
She was intrigued. Patsy wasn’t one for buying records and she wondered what had prompted her to send it.

So, she turned her attention to the letter accompanying it.  
It was on a pale blue, superior quality, laid paper. She lifted it to her nose, and her heart leapt at the familiar scent - it was the perfume she’d given Patsy the day she’d left…

She looked at the letter again, her eyes following Patsy’s elegant, looping cursive, not really reading the words just yet. Until she reached the date. August the 20th…  
Tears welled in her eyes then. Patsy _had_ written to her… if only it hadn’t gotten lost…

Oh, Patsy…

She sniffed, wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand and began to read…

 

————

_20th of August, 1962._

_My darling Delia,  
_ _I hope you are well and that you are thriving on the maternity wards. You really are a natural and you’re going to be the most wonderful midwife._

_I can’t tell you how many times I have sat down with the intention of writing to you. I have truly lost count!_  
_Please forgive me, but each time I tried, the very act of having to write to you made the realisation that you are so far away almost too much to bear.  
_ _Each time I tried, the paper would remain resolutely blank - or worse - damp with tear stains._

_The atmosphere at the house has not helped either. My father continues to deteriorate as each day passes and watching that happen – knowing there is nothing I can do to stop it – is so very difficult._

_Oh Deels, I miss you so much and Iong to have you with me - you’d make even the very darkest moments just a little brighter.  
_ _I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to sound so grim! This won’t make happy reading for you at all - and the last thing I want is to make you sad._

_So, on a slightly happier note:_  
_A few weeks ago, I found a lovely little cafe only a few streets away. I needed to get out of the house one day and I just sort of stumbled across it really.  
_ _It reminds me so much of the Silver Buckle - and it has a juke box - which reminds me of you!_

_I hope you’ll be glad to hear that it has become something of a sanctuary for me, and I go there twice, sometimes three times a week, or just whenever I need a break._  
_It really is like a little slice of home. So much so, that I find myself frequently looking towards the door, half expecting you to walk in to meet me…  
_ _I’m sitting there now as I write this letter, drinking coffee and listening to the juke box…_

_There is, or rather, I should say was (and I’ll explain further in a moment) a particular record in the juke box. The first time someone played it, the opening line made me stop in my tracks. I was trying again (unsuccessfully) to write to you, and those first few words of the song… well, it was as though my thoughts were being sung out loud! You’ll understand when you listen to the record yourself…_

_So, every time since then, I have been sure to have enough coins with me so that I can play that particular record, and I have played it every single time I’ve visited.  
_ _You’ll probably think I’m such a sap when you read this Deels, but that song really has helped me to finally be able to write to you._

_The owner of the cafe certainly thinks I’m a sap._  
_Today when he brought me my usual coffee, he presented me with the record - straight out of the juke box - can you believe it?!  
_ _He said I must have paid for it twenty times over with the amount of money I’ve fed into the machine (he’s right - and then some!), and that the least he could do was give me what I’d paid for._

_Either that, or he’s just sick to the back teeth of hearing it… he must dread seeing me walk in…_

_Anyway - then he suggested that I should send it to my sweetheart, which nearly made me choke on my coffee._

_Am I so obvious?  
_ _It seems so… the sad, love-sick lady, sitting in the corner, listening to the same song over and over, pining for her love… I must cut such a pathetic figure!!_

_Oh Deels, I love you and miss you so much!_

_Only know this: I will be coming home to you just as soon as I can._  
_Until then, please accept the enclosed gift as a reminder that I think of you very single day.  
_ _To echo the words of the song: ‘I’m only living for the day I’m home to stay’._

_Yours. Always,_

_Patsy x_

————

As she finished the letter, fresh tears tracked down Delia’s cheeks. The thought of Patsy, on the other side of the world, perhaps waiting for a response and not getting one!  
She suddenly felt a deep pang of remorse. Her hurt and anger at Patsy’s apparent lack of communication had been quite unfair.

She went to the dressing table and lifted the well-travelled piece of seven inch vinyl. Turning it in her hands, she blew some specs of dust from the playing surface before setting it on the turntable. She used the little juke box adapter to fix the record securely in place, switched the turntable on, then gently placed the stylus into the groove.

The dancette hissed and crackled as the needle moved along the lead-in groove towards the beginning of the track.  
Delia picked up Patsy’s letter again and clutched it to her chest as she moved back to the centre of the room to listen to the song

As the stylus finally hit the track, an almost hesitant and slightly fragile female vocal floated from the tinny speakers of Trixie’s dancette:

 _“What shall I write?”_  
_“What can I say?”  
_ _“How can I tell you how much I miss you?”_

Delia sniffed and clutched the letter tighter still as the song picked up it’s rhythm.

 _“The weather here has been as nice as it can be_  
_Although it doesn't really matter much to me  
_ _For all the fun I'll have while you're so far away  
_ _It might as well rain until September”_

Delia closed her eyes then and swayed gently along with the tune, imagining Patsy halfway across the world in that little cafe, drinking coffee and smoking, and listening to this very same record.

 _“I don't need sunny skies for things I like to do_  
_'Cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you  
_ _As far as I'm concerned each day's a rainy day  
_ _So It might as well rain until September”_

Delia sniffed again and then smiled softly. This was so typically Patsy… constantly turning her emotions on their head…

 _“It doesn't matter whether skies are grey or blue_  
_It's raining in my heart 'cause I can't be with you  
_ _I'm only living for the day you're home to stay  
_ _So It might as well rain until September…”_

As the song was reaching it’s conclusion there was a quick rap at the door, and suddenly Patsy appeared, face alight with excitement.

“Deels! I’ve just been given the best news - we’re to have Phyllis’…. room…,” she faltered at the tableau before her.  
Delia, eyes half-closed, swaying to the music, clutching a now quite crumpled letter tightly to her chest.

Patsy frowned.  
“Is that the letter I sent? …you’re reading it again... now? ….have you been crying… what’s wrong?!”

Delia flew across the room and threw herself against the now thoroughly baffled Patsy.  
“No, everything is just right Pats - you did write!” Delia exclaimed, hugging the taller woman tightly around the waist.

Patsy hesitantly wrapped her arms around Delia and replied carefully, “well, yes of course I did - quite some time go…”

Delia pulled out of the hug slightly and held Patsy’s concerned gaze.  
“Pats, this is the first time I’ve read it… and the other thing is - I’m not the first person to have read it.”

Patsy looked even more bewildered.  
“Deels, you’re really not making any sense…”

Delia grabbed the torn airmail wrapper with the illegible address and waved it in front of Patsy’s face.  
“Look - it’s been lost in the post! It only arrived this morning just after I left for my shift…”

Patsy took the worn wrapping paper and examined it. She glanced back to Delia, noting the now drying tear-tracks on her cheeks and then pulled her back into a hug.  
“Oh gosh - so… you thought I hand’t written at all… oh, I’m so sorry Deels!” 

“When I hadn’t heard from you for so long, I thought maybe I’d lost you. I thought you might not come back…” Delia murmured softly into Patsy’s chest, “but that was wrong of me and I’m sorry for thinking it.”

Patsy smiled lopsidedly and placed a soft kiss on the top of Delia’s head.  
"Oh Delia darling, I was always coming home to you… and you know, this is no one’s fault - it was just circumstances really - so we should probably stop apologising,” she whispered into Delia’s hair adding, “Deal?” 

Delia lifted her head and smiled softly up at Patsy.  
“Deal!” she agreed.

Patsy frowned, suddenly remembering something, “Wait, Deels - what did you mean when you said you weren’t the first person to have read it?”

Delia pursed her lips, “Ah… well… Trixie read it.”

Patsy’s eyes widened and a deep blush flushed into her cheeks, “What!?… oh God - how?”

“She genuinely thought it was for her” Delia explained, “it’s OK Pats, she apologised profusely and I’m certain she won’t breathe a word of it unless we want her to.”

Patsy relaxed slightly, “so… is she… OK… about us…?”

Delia chuckled “I’d say she’s perfectly OK about us - you know Trix - she’s a sucker for a romance!” then she added, “I asked her to pop in to my room after dinner so that you two could catch up properly in private- she wants to apologise to you too.”

Patsy grimaced almost comically “Delia! What are you doing to me? She’ll want all the juicy details and I’ll die of embarrassment!”

Delia laughed, “No you won’t! She’s you’re best friend” then added cheekily, “If you can’t talk to your best friend about your sweetheart, who can you talk to??”  
Then she rubbed her chin exaggeratedly, “Hmmm, I do see what you mean though… I may have to disappear and join Sister Monica Joan in her after-dinner-cake-hunt. Can’t have us both dying of embarrassment, can we?”

Patsy narrowed her eyes and shook her head in exasperation.

Before she had time to respond however,Delia decided to get it over with and drop the other bombshell:  
“Oh and by the way Pats, the main reason we’re moving to Phyllis and Barbara’s room is that Phyllis also know about us - and yes, that’s all OK too.”

Patsy’s eyebrow’s shot up almost into her hairline.  
“Good Lord Delia! Is there anything else you need to get off your chest - shall I sit down…?”  
Then she rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, “I don’t know - I go off for a bit and all of a sudden you’ve outed us to half of Nonnatus - I can’t leave you alone, can I?”

Delia grinned and slapped Patsy lightly on the arm “I don’t want you to leave me alone - ever again!”

“Oh trust me, I don’t plan to!” Patsy retorted and then added with a note of seriousness, “I feel like I can get through anything with you Deels - you know? Like we can cope with anything life throws at us, you and I. I want us to be together. Always.”

With that Patsy crossed over to Trixie’s dancette and set the record playing again. Then she turned and took Delia’s hand and spun her round in a little pirouette.  
“You know, this song is far more jaunty than the words suggest - shall we have a little dance before dinner…?”

Delia laughed delightedly “Well, since you put it like that, it would be rude not to!”

She moved in close, sighing contentedly and revelling in the warmth of Patsy’s nearness.

This was real: Patsy was home to stay.

 

——————————

**TBC**

——————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three Notes:
> 
> So, I was never happy about the fact that in CtM, Patsy had apparently not written to Delia at all - well that's how it appeared to me... so I decided to put that right with this chapter.  
> Bizarrely, I got this idea from a show at the Edinburgh Festival called 'The Carole King Story'. I was by far the youngest member of the audience - by at least 30 years! But as soon as I heard the opening lines of 'It might as well rain until September', this whole idea of Patsy writing home to Delia and sending her that record, just formed in my head almost instantly!
> 
> Also, my mum has an original 1962 copy of that single. I played it recently (yes, I do vinyl!) and it sounded shocking. Not because of the song itself - which is lovely - but because my then teenage mother had clearly pretty much played it to death!!  
> So... I though it MUST be good - here's the details:
> 
>  
> 
> "It Might as Well Rain Until September" is a 1962 song originally written for Bobby Vee by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. King recorded the demo version of the song and it became a hit for her.
> 
> It might as well rain until September - lyrics:
> 
> What shall I write?  
> What can I say?  
> How can I tell you how much I miss you?
> 
> The weather here has been as nice as it can be  
> Although it doesn't really matter much to me  
> For all the fun I'll have while you're so far away  
> It might as well rain until September
> 
> I don't need sunny skies for things I like to do  
> 'Cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you  
> As far as I'm concerned each day's a rainy day  
> So It might as well rain until September
> 
> My friends look forward to their picnics on the beach  
> Yes everybody loves the summertime  
> But you know darling while your arms are out of reach  
> The summer isn't any friend of mine
> 
> It doesn't matter whether skies are grey or blue  
> It's raining in my heart 'cause I can't be with you  
> I'm only living for the day you're home to stay  
> So It might as well rain until September  
> September, September, oh  
> It might as well rain until September


	4. I love the way you always treat me tenderly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 1960, just after the 'Ghosts' conversation. Delia wants to take their relationship to the next level - but does Patsy feel the same?

**CHAPTER 4. I love the way you always treat me tenderly**

* * *

**_Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 11:00am_ **

Patsy straightened and squeezed Delia’s shoulder gently. She made her way over to the suitcase which sat on the case-stand by the large double-wardrobes. Rummaging in her overnight bag for a moment she produced three, small velvet-covered boxes. Two were deep midnight blue velvet and the other dark red.

“You’ll be glad to know that even in my dotage, I didn’t forget to pick these up from the jeweller.” Patsy chuckled softly, then turned and brought the little boxes over to the dressing-table. She pulled out the other chair and turned it to face Delia, settled down into it and opened the two blue boxes. Each held a simple gold wedding band, perhaps a little broader than usual, nestled into dark blue velvet and sparkling brightly with a deep shine.

“Wow!” Delia whispered, “they scrub-up OK don’t they?”

Patsy smiled, “They do, don’t they? Not unlike their owners!”

Inscribed onto the inside surface of each, was their initials and the date of their civil partnership: “P&D 10/06/2006”.  
They had decided not to purchase new rings for their wedding, instead Patsy had taken the existing rings to the jeweller to be polished and buffed back to their original shine. It just seemed right to do it that way. After all, their new marriage certificate would bear the date of that original partnership.

Patsy closed the two boxes and set them aside - Trixie would be charged with looking after these soon enough.  Then she selected the other little box. This one, in the dark red velvet, was somewhat worn and faded and looked much older than the other two. She turned it over in her hands, rubbing her fingers over the soft surface. 

Looking up, she found Delia’s gaze and smiled lopsidedly, “well old thing, this must count as one of the world’s longest engagements!”  
She opened the box to reveal the engagement ring she’d given her all those years ago - now newly polished and shining brightly - and offered it to Delia.

Lifting the ring from its box, Delia slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand and chuckled, “It surely must Cariad… and at one point, I thought it would never happen at all, didn’t I?”

 

* * *

**... _The London Hospital, Whitechapel, Thursday 10th of November 1960, 1:15am_**

Delia sat alone in the deserted staff canteen. She didn't particularly enjoy night shift, it was just too quiet for her liking.  Instead, she much preferred the hectic hustle and bustle of the day shift where there was no time to stop. No time to think....

Now, just halfway through her thus far uneventful shift, she'd already had far too much time to think.

About Patsy.

Or to be more specific, about her future with Patsy.

She pushed her plate of half-eaten toast aside and stirred her cup of milky tea, staring morosely at the swirling, scummy surface.  
She was finding being with Patsy increasingly difficult. Or more accurately, _not_ being with her…

As soon as Patsy had moved out of the London Hospital nurses home and into Nonnatus House, Delia had felt the separation keenly.  
It had been so easy before to just pop in and out of each others rooms. To see each other discreetly without really having to think about it.But she'd been so pleased and proud of Patsy when she'd passed her midwifery exams. She was just so glad to see her finally happy with her career, that she resolved to make it work. She’d tried to focus on looking forward to their weekly meetings at the Silver Buckle and their occasional nights out 'Up West’. But it wasn't long before the reduced contact began to take its toll, and she realised quickly that for her, it would never be enough.

If the physical distance between them was a hurdle, she was finding the emotional distance an almost insurmountable barrier.  
The lack of intimacy was now becoming a real issue. When they’d both stayed at the nurses home, they’d had the privacy to be themselves with each other. They’d had the simple luxury of locking a door and knowing that they wouldn’t be interrupted. As a result, they had in fact managed to be _very_ intimate surprisingly often. Belatedly, Delia was now beginning to realise that she’d taken that entirely for granted. Now she found herself longing for Patsy’s touch and craving that intimacy almost constantly.  
It felt as though a huge part of herself was missing.

She sighed, staring for a moment at the beige-coloured liquid in her cup, then took a lukewarm sip and grimaced.  The real problem was, that whenever they met now, it was always in public. No privacy. No chance for her to show Patsy the kind of affection she desperately wanted to - the kind of affection that Patsy deserved.

The first time she'd truly felt it was at the cubs charity Square Dance in September.  
Whilst it had been fun meeting all the other midwives - and they all seemed lovely - the dancing had been absolute torture. The idea of dressing-up in drindl skirts and gingham had seemed so silly at the time, but on the night, Patsy had looked utterly gorgeous.

Of course she had! Why hadn’t she expected that?  
She told Patsy often enough that she could probably wear a potato sack and still look thoroughly alluring…  
And so, she had been unable to take her eyes off the beautiful redhead all evening. As the dancing had continued, she'd found herself becoming increasingly frustrated. That had also been unexpected.  
Although she tried her very best to hide it, there was only one person in the hall that she wanted to dance with, and it wouldn't - couldn't - ever happen.

That was when the reality of their situation had hit her for the first time. She’d tried to make light of it, suggesting they dance together in their heads instead, but the unfairness of it was like a sudden, physical force. The realisation that she would never be able to express her love for Patsy the way other couples did, was like an icy little stiletto-stab to her heart. She would never go dancing with Patsy, or kiss her on a whim, or (heaven forbid!) even hold her hand in public, without fear of rejection or recrimination. 

And this was only compounded by the fact that Patsy would not tolerate any show of public affection. Often the slightest, lightest of touches - no matter how discreet - would make her freeze. And then the shutters would come rattling down…

Deep down she knew that it wasn't really rejection. It was a kind of defence mechanism - she had figured that out quite early on - and that it wasn't truly directed at her… but sometimes it really, _really_ felt that way. With each one of those little rebuffs, she felt a small part of her soul wither and fade and it was becoming increasingly difficult to pick herself up, dust herself down and put on that blasted public façade.

She didn't understand how Patsy could do that so easily, could just turn off her emotions in an instant, as though with the flick of a switch.  
Delia simply couldn't do it, couldn't shut herself down like that. She never had been able to ignore or hide her emotions for very long, they were always there bubbling away just under the surface.

True, there had been times, before Patsy, when she'd managed to control them.  
When she had realised that she was different to most women (was in fact attracted to women) and what that really meant, she hadn't been ready to deal with it.  She wasn't sure how to.  
So, she had initially distracted herself, throwing herself into her nursing studies and training, concentrating all her energies on it, ensuring that it filled her mind completely allowing her neither the time nor the space in her head to think about her sexuality.

There would be time enough for that later, she'd always thought.

Then she'd met Patsy, and everything changed in an instant.  
It became impossible to ignore or hide her feelings any longer - and that had been wonderful - for a while…

Now however, it seemed that it was becoming impossible to act on those feelings.  
Her current situation appeared almost as bad as when she had first realised she loved Patsy. When she hadn’t known if her love was (or could ever be) reciprocated. Actually, she decided it was a little worse, because this time she knew Patsy loved her. Or at least she thought she did…

Maybe they should just go their separate ways…  
But what was the alternative?  
Could she really live a _‘normal’_ life?  
Would it really be _‘easier’_?

God knows, her Mam was forever nagging her to: _'settle down'_ with ‘ _some nice chap’_  or _‘get married’_ or _‘give her grandchildren…’_ It was exhausting sometimes!  
But no - she knew she couldn’t live that kind of a lie for the rest of her life, and it wouldn’t be fair to the poor, unsuspecting fellow who ended up shackled to her.  
She could just see it - it would gradually eat away at her, leave her bitter and miserable, and probably - ultimately - alone.

And she knew she didn’t want to spend her life alone. She knew she wanted to share it. With someone special.

Patsy.

Delia loved Patsy deeply.  
It scared her sometimes, just how deeply… she knew she couldn’t walk away… there _had_ to be a way for them…  
But what? And how…?

Recently, she had heard talk of some developments planned for the hospital, one of which was the demolition of the old nurses home. Since hearing those rumours, she had been toying with the idea of suggesting to Patsy that they get a flat together. To Delia it was the perfect solution, but she just couldn’t tell at the moment how Patsy really felt about her - about _them.  
_ Delia needed to see some kind of affirmation from Patsy before she could consider voicing that idea.

She smiled to herself grimly and checked her fob watch.  
She should probably just get back on duty instead of sitting here moping. Maybe something exciting/dramatic would happen on the ward to divert her current train of thought elsewhere…

She let out a loud sigh and stood up, straightened her uniform, then gathered up her teacup and toast onto their tray and deposited it all into the rack at the end of the service counter.  
Making her way out into the hall and up the stairs to the surgical wards, she noted again how different the hospital looked and felt at night.  The corridors although lit, were eerily quiet and all the administration areas were in darkness. Walking these deserted hallways, she often felt as though she were trespassing somewhere after hours.

As she entered the surgical ward area, she turned into the small locker-room just before the main ward doors to retrieve her apron. On approaching her locker however, she noticed the edge of what looked like a piece of note paper sticking out of the tiny gap where the edge of the door met the locker frame. Someone had clearly shoved it in there. But who…?

Intrigued, she carefully fished the small piece of paper out. It was indeed a note, about three inches square and folded neatly and crisply in half. She unfolded it and recognised the handwriting immediately.

_‘I’m outside in the quad, can you meet me?’_

It was short and to the point and signed simply _‘Px’_

Delia stood still for a moment, perplexed.  
What on earth was Patsy doing here… loitering outside… at nearly twenty past one in the morning?  
Turning quickly on her heels and not stopping to put on her apron, she continued to the ward doors. Pushing them carefully and quietly open, she peered cautiously round the edge of the door into the dimly lit ward. She could see no sign of Matron or the Ward Sister - only Nurse Dixon was sitting quietly at the nurses station. She daren’t be caught on the ward without her apron, so she called from the doorway in her best stage-whisper.

“Julia!”

When Nurse Dixon did not turn round immediately, she tried again.

“Jules!!” she hissed, a little louder.

This time Julia did turn round, and on seeing Delia hovering in the doorway, quickly got up and made her way quietly over.  
“Hi Delia!” she said cheerily, but keeping her voice low enough so as not to wake any patients. “Back so soon? Had enough of the culinary delights in the staff canteen then?” she added with a grin.

Delia pulled a face, “Ugh, I know! Honestly, I can’t drink another drop of that dreadful over-stewed tea!” she chuckled and then added as casually as possible, “Listen, Jules… I have to pop out for a little while… I don’t suppose you could cover for me, could you?”

Jules raised her eyebrows, “Popping out? At this time of night??” then she narrowed her eyes, “Oh, I get it! Off canoodling with some dishy junior doctor are we?”

Delia rolled her eyes dramatically at her colleague, “Uh-huh, something like that!”

Jules nodded and tapped the side of her nose conspiratorially, “say no more - and consider yourself covered… God knows you’ve saved my bacon from the wrath of Matron often enough!”

Delia smiled gratefully, “Thanks! I’ll try not to be gone too long.”

“Listen love - it’ll take as long as it takes…” Jules retorted and then winked knowingly, “… and I _will_ require all the juicy details afterwards!”

Delia shook her head in mock exasperation, before carefully retreating back out through the ward doors and closing them quietly behind her.

 

* * *

As she hurried down the two flights to the ground floor, Delia’s mind whirled.  
Why would Patsy turn up here in the middle of the night, especially considering that she’d be up and out on her district rounds in just a few short hours? She hoped nothing bad had happened…  
She was still lost in thought as she pushed through the huge, wooden front doors and out into the quad.

The chill touch of autumnal air on her bare arms focused her instantly. As her skin prickled into goosebumps, she began to wish she’d put on her cape.  She paused at the top of the wide stone steps and scanned the interior quad of the nearly two-hundred-year-old building.

There was a paved roadway which cut straight through the middle to allow ambulances access and then grassed areas either side of that. Ornate, cast-iron lampposts stood tall and at even intervals all the way round the edge, their somewhat sickly yellow glow only just managing to light the area adequately.  However, the night sky overhead was sharp and clear, and in the crisp, bright moonlight Delia easily found the flash of copper.

Patsy.

She was leaning casually against one of the lampposts at the far end of the quad, dressed in fitted slacks and a tailored, dark green woollen coat. Effortlessly elegant, as always. As soon as she caught sight of Delia she straightened and waved a hand.

Delia quickly made her way over, cutting right across the grass in a straight line - the quickest route - the shortest distance.  
“Pats!”, she whispered as she approached, “what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night - is everything alright?”

Patsy just gazed at her for a beat and then gave her that slow, lopsided smile.  
Delia’s heart flipped a little.

Reaching out a hand, Patsy gently pulled on Delia’s arm and said simply, “Come with me.”

Delia’s heart skipped again uncontrollably, the touch of Patsy’s fingers on her skin causing goosebumps which had nothing to do with the chill in the air. And then she found herself being led mutely into the silent and darkened administrative wing of the hospital.

She’d been quickly led up three flights before she eventually found her voice.  
“Pats, what’s going on - why are we here?” she asked in a loud whisper, then frowning added, “why are _you_ here? I mean - it’s gone half past one in the morning!”

They’d now reached the fourth floor and Patsy giggled softly then whispered back equally loudly, “I’ve got something to show you!”

Delia was beginning to think that perhaps Patsy was under the influence… but she couldn’t smell any alcohol on her at all…  
“Pats! What can you possibly need to show me in the admin offices - in the middle of the night!??” she asked breathlessly.

Patsy paused on the landing and turned to face Delia.  
She’d fished a large ring of keys out of her pocket and she jangled them in front of Delia’s now thoroughly bewildered face. The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, as though trying to suppress a smile, then she raised a finger to her lips and whispered quietly this time, “Ssssh Deels - you’ll see…”

And with that, Patsy took Delia’s hand and led her a little further along the deserted corridor, before stopping in front of one of the doors there. She fumbled with the keys, selected one and rattled it in the lock until it clicked open, then she opened the door and stepped inside, pulling Delia along with her.  Closing the door quietly behind them Patsy felt for a light-switch… found it, and flicked it on.

They now stood in what appeared to be a store room.  
The place smelled musty like an attic, there was a sink in one corner with what looked like a janitor’s mops and buckets stacked against it, along with various items of old office furniture piled up everywhere.

Delia turned to face Patsy then.  
“What on earth!” she exclaimed, eyebrows high in disbelief, “Pats, if this is your idea of a come-on…”

Patsy laughed, low and throaty and quickly grabbed Delia round the waist, pulling her close. Delia gasped in surprise, but she didn’t attempt to get out of the embrace - at least not yet. Patsy smiled down at her softly, “Hmmm… you know, now that you mention it…” she teased, “I _have_ heard on the hospital grape-vine that this room occasionally has other uses - and not of a janitorial nature either…”

“Right Pats - that’s it!” Delia grumbled, wriggling out of the embrace, “If you think you’re having your way with me in what is essentially a broom-cupboard, you can think again!”  
She put her hands on her hips and sighed loudly - and tried her hardest not to smile.  Secretly, she loved ‘mischievous Pats’ but was always loath to show it…

Patsy immediately put on a look of exaggerated innocence, “Of course not Deels… I wouldn’t dream of it!” she whispered contritely.

“Then you’d best start explaining yourself, or I refuse to take another step!” Delia commanded, Welsh lilt strengthening.

Patsy smiled and nodded, “I really do have something to show you, and you’re absolutely right, it’s not in this dusty old store room… perish the thought!” she added, with a shudder and a disparaging glance around the grubby room.

Gently, she took Delia’s hand again, rubbing her thumb over the small knuckles, “I just needed to find somewhere quiet, a place where we would definitely be left alone.” She raised Delia’s hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles “I’m really not playing a prank - it’s just through that old door over there,” she whispered softly, nodding towards the back of the room, “will you come with me?”

Delia smiled and nodded, gripping Patsy’s hand more firmly, “well, you’d better show me then…”

 

* * *

What ensued was some more fumbling with the ring of keys and some more rattling of locks.  
Then there was some mild cursing which, in Patsy’s received pronunciation, Delia always found quite amusing. Finally, after a frustrated shake of the handle and a small shoulder-charge, the old door gave way, opening with a loud screech of protest from the rusting hinges and a small cloud of dust from the rotting frame.

Patsy winced at the jarring noise, “Gosh what a dreadful din! But that does actually bode quite well from a privacy standpoint…”

Cold night air met them immediately as they stepped over the threshold. And Delia found herself standing outside. On the roof of the hospital!  
She stood stock-still, dumbfounded, waiting for her brain to catch up and for Patsy to close the door behind them.

“It jammed earlier, so I won’t lock it,” Patsy muttered, “just incase we can’t get back out… and I suppose those awful old hinges will alert us to any would-be interloper anyway…”

Only half listening, Delia slowly took in her surroundings.  
The hospital roof was flat with a low, railed parapet running all the way round. A light dusting of frost coated the crunchy surface beneath her feet and at various points, random outcrops of ductwork from the hospital ventilation system stood out like abstract islands in a tar-and-felt lake.

She tilted her head back and gazed up at the huge expanse of night sky above her. Countless stars and galaxies glittered like diamonds on Prussian blue velvet. It reminded her of the clear night skies of home.

Bringing her gaze level again she looked out beyond the roof parapet.  
Northwards she could see Spitalfields and Brick Lane, then on further still to Bethnal Green. Looking in the opposite direction she could see straight over the timeless, Dickensian-looking roof-tops of Whitechapel. Beyond that was St Katherine Dock framed by the gothic turrets of Tower Bridge. Then the snaking Thames, inky-black and glittering in the moonlight, twisting and turning on its languorous journey through the city, drawing her gaze irresistibly to the impressive, perfect dome of St Paul’s sitting proud in the distance.

“Wow…” she whispered to herself in amazement.  
It was completely surreal. And very beautiful.

Just then she felt warm, gentle fingers wrap around her arm and she jumped slightly at the touch - she’d almost forgotten Patsy was there.  
“Pats, please tell me what’s going on…” she whispered.

“Come on - this way” was the only reply.

Then she was led gently round the corner to a sheltered area of roof immediately behind the stonework which housed the storeroom they’d just come through.  
As they rounded the corner of the building, the sight that greeted Delia made her stop in her tracks for the second time this evening.

There before her, laid out on one of the low steel-structured ventilation ducts, was what appeared to be a candle-lit picnic!  
There were plates, teacups, a flask and a wicker hamper sitting on a large plaid rug, all lit by the warm flickering glow of a tall candle.  
She turned to Patsy, wide-eyed and bewildered at the bizarre scenario she now found herself in.

“What _is_ all this…?” she asked quietly.

Patsy paused for a beat, her gaze dropping to her feet, gathering her thoughts.  
When finally she spoke, her voice was soft, almost shy.

“Deels, I know lately that things have been… less than great. We haven’t seen much of each other and I know that’s been difficult - for us both,” she paused and sighed softly, “and I know some of that is my fault.”  
She lifted her her eyes, finally meeting Delia’s gaze, “I’m sorry,” she stated simply.  
Then she added quietly, “so… I wanted to do something special to try and make things better,” finishing with a note of hope in her voice.

Delia stepped closer and reached for Patsy’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze, “Well, I can’t fault you there, this is certainly special… and very slightly crazy!”

Patsy nodded in the direction of the bedecked ventilation duct, “well then… won’t you join me for a midnight feast?” she enquired almost formally, “I hope you’re hungry, I have some little pork pies, some lovely cheeses and there are scones and some jam.”  Then she smiled and added, “oh, and I know you said you don’t like cake… but there’s half a Victoria sponge, which I rescued from the ravenous clutches of Sister MJ.”

Delia blinked slowly.  
“No, I definitely like _this_ kind of cake,” she murmured, ignoring the actual cake and gazing steadily at Patsy

The ghost of a smile tugged briefly at one corner of Patsy’s mouth, then she turned, sauntered slowly over and settled onto the rug, sitting elegantly with one hip up on the duct and the other long leg outstretched with her foot on the floor. She cocked an eyebrow and patted the rug next to her as an indication of where Delia should sit.

Delia let out a little laugh of delighted disbelief and followed.  
The duct was just a little lower than her hip-height and she sat herself up on it without too much trouble - however, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor…  
She turned to Patsy and grinned, then swung her legs girlishly, her heels drumming gently against the sides of the hollow metallic structure.

Patsy chuckled, “Ssssh! I wouldn’t do that too loudly - we don’t want the night-porters rushing up here to investigate!”

Just then Delia felt a rather odd sensation: a gentle heat seeping through the rug and warming her bottom.  
“Oh my!” she exclaimed with a grin, “this thing is warm!!”

Patsy laughed delightedly, “I know! Isn’t it marvellous? It must be connected to the heating system…I chose this one for that very reason,” then on taking in Delia’s bare, goose-pimpled arms she added, “but I don’t think it’s going to be quite enough to keep you warm...”

Patsy rummaged for a moment in the depths of the hamper and produced an NHS-issue grey woollen blanket.  
“Purloined from the Nonnatus House supply room” she explained with a wink, “we don’t want you getting a chill.”

Then she reached over and wrapped it carefully around Delia’s shoulders, her fingers brushing lightly over the skin at the nape of her neck.

Delia sighed at the frisson of electricity the touch generated and brought her own had up, touching Patsy’s fingers briefly with her own as she pulled the blanket more tightly around her. This she decided, really was quite a lovely surprise!

“Pats?” she said questioningly as she glanced about her again, “how do you know about this place - and more to the point how on earth do you come to have a key?”

“Would you like a pork pie?” came the response as Patsy, obviously stalling, placed some tasty treats from the hamper onto a plate and passed it, along with a napkin to Delia.

“Come on Pats - tell me!” Delia chided gently as she accepted the plate of food.

Patsy poured them both some tea and placed the cups and saucers down on the rug between them.  
“Well, as I said, I wanted to take you someplace where we could have some time to ourselves. Some proper privacy. Only, I couldn’t think of anywhere that would allow us to be truly alone. Wherever we go, we always seem to be interrupted…”

She lifted her cup, took a quick sip of tea and continued, “… and then I remembered some gossip during training about pupil nurses and junior doctors coming up here on breaks during nigh shift - did you hear those rumours?”

“I knew it!” Delia exclaimed then, letting out a loud laugh.

Patsy stopped, brows furrowing in confusion, “knew what…?”

Now it was Delia’s turn to tease.  
“I’ve got Julia Dixon covering for me right now and she’s convinced I’m off fornicating with a doctor - turns out she wasn’t too far wrong!”

Patsy narrowed her eyes.  
“Delia Busby! You know I wouldn’t dream of taking you anywhere under false pretences!” she countered with mock-outrage.

Delia smirked and allowed her gaze to wander slowly from Patsy’s eyes to her lips, and settle there,“You know, I _may_ be able to squeeze in a little canoodling before I have to get back on the ward…” she mused, as if to herself.

Patsy gently bit her lower lip briefly - and then decided to get things back on track, “Um… so, anyway… about the key…” 

“Oh yes, the key…” Delia immediately sat up straight, her attention rapt, like a star pupil.

 Patsy shook her head and rolled her eyes.  
“So, yes - eventually the porters got wind of all the high-jinks going on up here and they made sure all the rooms with access to the roof were kept locked from then on.”  
Patsy then held up a finger and continued, “ _but_ … do you know Pete the night-porter?”

“Yes I do,” Delia replied, “I see him often around the hospital - really lovely fellow.”

Patsy nodded in agreement, “Well, I delivered his twin girls in March and he said should I ever needed anything - anything at all - I was simply to ask.”

Delia nodded slowly, “Ah… so when you needed the perfect place for a secluded romantic picnic for two, you asked him for the key!”

Patsy nodded again, “Precisely!” then added ruefully, “so now he thinks I’m up here spooning with some ghastly doctor…”

Delia giggled, “…and Jules thinks I’m doing the same… let’s hope they never talk!”

Still smiling at that thought Delia lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, it was _much_ better than the awful brew in the canteen.  
She sighed happily and gazed out over the city again.

“You know Pats - I don’t think I’ve ever had a midnight feast - and certainly not an open-air one,” she mused as she selected a scone and smothered it liberally in strawberry jam. Taking a bite, she chewed thoughtfully for a moment and added, “This is really lovely and sweet of you Pats. It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together - just you and me - thank you.”

Pausing, she tilted her head slightly and gazed at Patsy for a moment.  
She looked so beautiful right then, her teacup poised over its saucer, held elegantly in her long fingers, her skin even paler than usual under the moonlight. And then there was that faint shadow of sadness, barely detectable but always there, just behind her ice-blue eyes.

Achingly beautiful.

Every time Delia laid eyes on her - like just now, when she’d caught sight of her leaning against that lamppost in the quad - her heart flipped and skipped and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She knew then and with with complete certainty that to walk away from this would be the biggest mistake of her life.

Patsy caught her gaze and took a sip of tea, before placing the cup back in its saucer and then quickly down onto the rug.  
She took a breath then spoke quietly.

“Delia…” she began hesitantly, “…I know that since I moved out of the nurses home things haven’t been so easy for us. I struggle with it too. I know I may not show it sometimes, but I long to be with you. You, and only you. I want us to try to do things like this more often.” She cast a quick glance at their surroundings, “even if it is a little mad, like a midnight picnic on a hospital roof.” Gazing intently at Delia she added, “I meant what I said you know - at the Cubs parade - we _will_ find a way to be together.”

Delia nodded her understanding and then asked quietly, “Pats, when we spoke a couple of weeks ago in the cafe, do you remember I said I felt as though we were ghosts?”

Patsy swallowed and nodded mutely.

Delia reached out and gently took Patsy’s hand in hers. It was warm but trembling.  
“Well, I think what I really meant is that when you’re not near, I feel like a part of me is missing - the best part.”

She sighed and placed her other hand on top of Patsy’s, gently stilling the trembling there. “I do struggle when we’re in public, but that’s only because I’m so happy when I’m with you, and I just want the world to know it.”  
Then with a rueful smile she continued, “but I know we have to be so very careful, and Patsy I need you to know that I can do it. I too want to protect what we have, because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

She glanced down and lifted Patsy’s hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the knuckles.  
“I also meant what I said that night. I _do_ want to get married. I love you Patience Elizabeth Mount, and if this world were a different place, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

Looking up again, she found Patsy blinking rapidly but failing in the end to stop a tear breaking free from her lower lashes and trickling down her cheek.  
“Oh Pats,” she sighed softly, “you really are such a…” 

But she was interrupted by Patsy quickly finishing the statement: “A fool. I know!”

Patsy sniffed and lowered her gaze, “When you first said you wanted to marry me, it took me completely by surprise you know. I really didn’t know what to do with it.”

She swallowed again audibly and raised her gaze to meet Delia’s.  “The idea that a woman like you might want to spend the rest of her life with me - well, I suppose I just couldn’t quite believe it,” she murmured in a throaty half-whisper.

Delia reached up and gently pressed her thumb to the tear, halting its progress down Patsy’s cheek. Raising her thumb to her lips, she kissed the moist tip and touched it lightly to Patsy’s lips.  
Then she whispered softly, “Please believe it Cariad, because truly I do. This is it for me.”

Patsy pursed her lips slightly where Delia’s thumb had touched, and then sighed softly.  
“You know, I think I had actually forgotten how to love” she stated quietly,“then suddenly you came into my life and I found myself learning how again. You may not realise this, but you teach me so much. And I _want_ to learn more, because loving you is so easy Deels - you make it so easy!” 

 She paused and took both of Delia’s hands in her own, and this time there was no trembling, her grip was steady and gentle.  
“Delia, I know that being with me isn’t so easy sometimes. I’m brusque and prickly and I often don’t tell you why.” She paused and rubbed her thumbs over the knuckles of the two small hands held in hers, “But the thing is Deels, I’m also learning how to _be_ loved, and I think that might be the most difficult lesson of all.”

She brought Delia’s hands up to her lips and whispered, “I want to be better at letting you love me Delia - and that’s really why I’ve brought you here.” 

As Patsy’s lips brushed the skin of her knuckles, Delia’s heart flipped and began to hammer. She was aware of her chest beginning to rise and fall much more rapidly than it should be. She felt as though they were suddenly on the brink of something momentous and she found her eyes riveted to Patsy’s lips. Hanging on every word.

Patsy softly kissed Delia’s knuckles and whispered, “I love you Delia. I don’t think you know just how much. I realise that’s because I never really tell you… well, not properly anyway… I may not always get things right, but I am trying. Please know that I’ll always try to treat you the way you deserve.”

Delia could only look on, stunned, as Patsy reached into the depths of the picnic hamper and pulled out a small red velvet-covered box.  
“So, I want you to have this,” she said simply as she opened the lid of the little box.

Delia gasped as her eyes took in the contents.  
There, nestled in a snow-white interior was the most beautiful ring.  
Although it shone brightly, Delia could tell that it was older than it looked. Set in what was presumably platinum on the delicate gold band, were three perfect little square-cut diamonds, all in a row and shimmering like the stars in the clear night sky above them.

“Pats!” she exclaimed in a hushed tone, “oh my gosh, where did you get that? It’s beautiful!”

Scarcely able to believe her eyes, Delia watched transfixed as Patsy removed the ring from its velvety enclosure and held it between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. Holding it up between them Patsy examined it for a moment, then mused almost as though to herself, “It’s quite old…1920’s I think… so, I took it to a jeweller to have it polished, and I bought a box for it too…”

Although the ring was quite simple in its design, the little diamonds it held were exquisite, and Delia found herself mesmerised by the moonlight glinting and dancing in the multi-faceted surfaces.

“It was my mother’s.” Patsy stated simply, before going on to explain further.  
“While we were in the camp we had to give up all our valuables, but we managed to conceal this and my mother gave up her wedding band instead. We managed to keep it hidden the whole time, and then I saved it and kept it with me when the camp was liberated.”

Delia blinked herself out of the trance quickly as she realised the enormity of what Patsy was telling her.  
She gasped again in shock, “What!? No Patsy - I can’t take that from you!”

Patsy smiled softly, “Deels, I’ve kept it for all these years, but I could never wear it. I never imagined for a moment that I’d ever find someone I could give it to. But now I have, and believe me when I say that there is no one else in the world I’d rather give it to.”

Delia was stunned.  
She knew what Patsy was asking. Of course she did - it was the thing she longed for - but still she couldn’t quite believe it.  
“But I…ah… oh, gosh Pats!” she heard herself stammer in disbelief.

 One corner of Patsy’s mouth began to twitch upwards.  
“Well, it’s not often I find Delia Busby unable to form a sentence,” she teased gently, then suggested carefully, “perhaps I should phrase it another way…”

“Will you marry me?”

The words hung in the air between them for a few beats as Delia fought to steady herself.  
Her heart was pounding in her chest and thundering in her hears. Tears had welled out of nowhere and now clung precariously to her lower eyelashes. She felt as though she may either faint from shock or explode with excitement - she wasn’t sure which.

She heard Patsy softly clear her throat: “Ahem…” and then, “Oh lord please don’t keep a girl waiting… I can’t bear it…” voice catching - barely audible.

Delia blinked and the tears finally lost their hold, tumbling freely over her eyelashes and down her cheeks.

“Yes” she heard herself whisper.

Then she tilted her face to the stars and shouted, “Yes! Yes!!” into the November night.

She felt the touch of gentle fingers and looked down through tears to see Patsy reverently slipping the ring over the third finger of her left hand.  
Delia lifted her hand and examined it carefully for a moment. Gazed at those glittering little diamonds.

Her hand looked different, and she realised it _felt_ different too. _She_ felt different. In that instant she felt truly part of something - of some _one_ \- more than just herself. And it felt wonderful.

Laughing and blinking away the tears, she saw Patsy gazing at her intently with a soft half-smile on her lips and she couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. She threw her arms around Patsy’s neck, pulled her close and then kissed those beautiful lips. Patsy’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, and it felt right, so very right.

They kissed like their lives depended on it. Like they were making up for lost time.  
When they finally broke apart, Delia felt Patsy’s fingers running over her hand, along her finger and over the ring. Touching it as though to make sure it was really there.

Delia placed her other hand over Patsy’s and smiled softly, “Thank you Patsy, I know I can’t wear it but this means so much and I’ll treasure it forever,” Delia stated quietly, a tiny hint of sadness tingeing her voice.

“You _can_ wear it…” Patsy replied, “…because I also got this…”

She lifted a little tab on the inside of the box to reveal a fine golden chain coiled beneath the white velvet interior. Lifting it from the box she unhooked the little clasp, then carefully removed the ring from Delia’s finger and threaded it onto the chain. Pausing for a second, they caught each others gaze, the ring suspended between them, then Patsy leaned in, reached behind Delia’s neck and joined the two ends of the chain.

Delia felt Patsy’s fingers move against her throat then, and realised that she was undoing the top few buttons of her uniform.  
Her breath caught and held.

“Here,” Patsy whispered softly, “you can wear it next to your heart.”

Warm fingers and cool metal feathered lightly over the exposed skin of her chest as Patsy carefully tucked the ring and its chain safely under the material of Delia’s uniform.  
“There,” she said with satisfaction as she re-did the buttons and straightened Delia’s collar, “now no one but you and I will ever know.”

Delia released her breath in a sigh, tilted her face up and placed a soft kiss on Patsy’s lips.  
“I love you,” she said simply, tracing her fingers lightly over the lips she’d just kissed, “and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She took both of Patsy’s hands in hers and squeezed gently “and who knows, maybe someday the world will change and we might be able to really get married.”

“I’d like that,” Patsy replied almost shyly, then she flashed that lopsided smile, “and until then, we’ll just have to plan our perfect wedding in our heads.”

 

————

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \------  
> Gah! This chapter has taken an AGE to write :o  
> My time is not my own at the moment and I've only been able to write this in tiny little bits and pieces - which has been VERY frustrating!  
> But I am very happy to be finally posting it - although I hope the stilted way I've had to write it hasn't affected the flow...


	5. I love how your heart beats whenever I hold you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy whisks Delia off to Paris... but what actually happened in the 'City of Light'?
> 
> Simply fluff... the whole fluff... and nothing but the fluff. So help me...
> 
> ... also a detailed, intimate and (hopefully!) sexy love scene.  
> Well, it is Paris – of course they're gonna!

* * *

 

 _ **Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 11:20am**_  
  
Delia ran her thumb over the third finger of her left hand and lightly over the engagement ring there, smiling to herself as she did so.  
Her knuckles were a little rough and somewhat gnarled now with mild arthritis, but the ring looked as new as the day it was made. It was timeless, Delia thought then, and such memories were held in those precious metals and stones. Memories of a lifetime of love… the love of her life…  
  
“Penny for your thoughts?” Patsy whispered as she watched her love affectionately.  
  
Delia looked up, startled slightly from her reverie “Oh, I was just thinking about when I used to wear this on a chain around my neck – remember?”  
  
Patsy nodded and smiled softly.  
  
“You might think this odd…” Delia continued, “…but I miss wearing it like that sometimes.”  
  
Patsy cocked her head and raised a quizzical eyebrow.  
  
Delia chuckled softly and glanced down at the ring again, “I know it sounds silly perhaps – and not that I ever wanted to hide it – but it was like our own special secret. It was as though we knew this wonderful, amazing secret and we were just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with us, you know?”  
  
There was a pause, and after a couple of beats, Patsy whispered, “Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?”  
  
Delia looked up again into those ice-blue eyes, now glistening with emotion. She brought her hand up and placed it gently on Patsy’s chest, her index finger resting lightly in the vee at the base of her soon-to-be wife’s throat. She felt the pulse there, strong as ever, an echo of the heart she loved so much, drumming its rhythm, constant and steadfast under her hand.  
  
“You may have Cariad – once or twice,” she replied with a soft smile.  
  
Drawing her hand back, she reached for the little red velvet box and opened it, lifting the little tab inside. “You know, I think the chain is probably still in here…”  
As she lifted the little flap to reveal the chain, her breath caught and she laughed, “Oh my word – look at what else is in here – I’d almost forgotten about this!”  
  
Just as Delia was attempting to extract the mysterious item from its velvety hiding place however, there was a sudden, loud knock at the door.  
  
Both women jumped in surprise.  
  
“Room service!” a voice from the corridor called.  
  
Patsy grinned “Ah! Breakfast,” she said to Delia, then turned towards the door and called, “Come in please!”  
  
The door to their suite opened and a smartly dressed young man entered, pushing a large trolley before him, laden with a bounty of breakfast items.  
  
“Where would you like it madam?” he enquired, directing his query to Patsy who was now making her way towards him.  
  
“Please take it through to the table in the breakfast room, would you?” Patsy replied.  
  
The young man nodded and took the trolley through the adjoining doorway to the breakfast area, where he quickly but carefully set it all out on the table, before quietly closing the door behind him as he left.  
  
Patsy grinned from the doorway, “I hope you’re hungry Deels, we’ve got quite the spread… will you join me?”  
  
Delia nodded, rising from her chair, “You know, I am suddenly quite famished,” she replied and made her way to join Patsy in the breakfast room.  
  
Spring sunlight was streaming through the tall Georgian windows as Delia entered the room, and there was a loud ‘pop!’ … the unmistakable sound of a cork leaving its bottle. Her eye was immediately caught by sunbeams glittering off two tall crystal champagne flutes – as well as the large chromium ice bucket in the middle of the table – and then Patsy – triumphantly brandishing the large bottle of newly-opened Taittinger Rosé.  
  
Patsy drew out a chair for Delia and indicated to the bottle in her hand, “Would madam like a little fizz in her flute?”  
  
Delia laughed and reached for one of the elegant crystal glasses, “Ha! …well… when you put it like that, how can a girl possibly refuse?”  
Then as Patsy charged their glasses, she raised an eyebrow and added “but isn’t it a tad early for champagne Pats?”  
  
Patsy snorted, “Nonsense! It’s never too early…” then the corner of her mouth hooked upwards slyly “…the sun is bound to be over the yard-arm somewhere in the world – and besides – we’ve got this enormous breakfast to soak it all up!”  
  
Delia smiled “Well, OK… it’s just – bubbles do make you a little _tipsy_ Cariad.”  
  
Patsy looked almost comically affronted, “I robustly refute that claim,” she countered, haughtily drawing herself up to her full height, “I’ll have you know, I am perfectly capable of holding my liquor!”  
  
Delia laughed again and reached two fingers into the small ring box she was still holding. “I beg to differ,” she replied with a grin, “especially where champagne is concerned, and I just happen to have the evidence of that right here in my hand!”  
  
With a flourish, she pulled the mystery item from the little box and laid it face-up on the table, as though playing a trump-card.  
  
Patsy leaned forward and squinted. There on the table was a black and white passport-sized photograph, clearly from a photo-booth.  
  
Delia reached forward and lifted it to reveal underneath another little photograph. Then she laughed heartily as she used a finger to reveal two more, spreading them all out on the table like a winning hand of cards.  
  
The first was of Delia, looking directly into the camera and smiling prettily. The three after that however, were something different altogether…  
  
They seemed to show a short sequence of events:  
Patsy entering the booth suddenly to sit on Delia’s lap, much to Delia’s delighted surprise.  
Then Patsy planting a kiss on Delia’s cheek as the latter laughed straight into the camera.  
Then finally, the last shot showed the pair leaning against one another and locked at the lips in a full-on clinch, Delia’s hand resting on Patsy’s chest, and Patsy, one arm stretched out and bracing herself, fingers splayed, palm flat against the back wall of the booth.  
  
Delia watched with mounting amusement as Patsy took in the diorama on the table before her.  
The hint of a blush turning the taller woman’s cheeks a delicate shade of pink – not dissimilar to the hue of the champagne in her glass.  
  
“Remember Paris Cariad?” Delia enquired, her tone was innocent but her eyes glittered with mirth.  
  
Patsy, eyes still riveted to the photographs, momentarily held her lower lip gently between her teeth… and then took a rather large sip of the lively pink liquid, before replying huskily, “How could I possibly forget?”

 

* * *

  
  
_**Paris, Saturday the 7th of April 1962, 2:45am**_  
  
“TAXI!!”  
Patsy called loudly, one arm outstretched to catch the attention of the cab driver, the other arm still draped around Delia’s shoulders, holding her close.  
  
The cab pulled to a halt before them just as the light April shower they’d been caught in was starting to turn heavier. Leaving the warmth of Patsy’s embrace to climb into the back of the cab, Delia started to really feel the chill that Patsy had been so concerned about.  
  
The cab driver twisted in his seat to face them, “Bonsoir mesdames, où?” he enquired.  
  
Patsy leaned forward and replied, “Hôtel Château Frontenac, près des Champs-Élysées s'il vous plaît.”  
  
The driver nodded and turned on the meter, and pulling away from the kerb, he switched off the interior lights dimming the rear of the cab into darkness.  
  
With her actions veiled under the deep shadows, Delia took the opportunity to sidle up against Patsy, sitting as close to her as propriety allowed and enjoyed the feeling of the taller woman’s body heat slowly begin to warm her.  
A moment later, to her delight, she felt Patsy seek out her hand, then long fingers intertwine with her own and squeeze gently. Then after a beat, the fingers left hers and, in a move that took her a little by surprise, she felt Patsy’s hand rest briefly on her knee… before those long fingers found the hem of her dress…  
  
Delia froze and found herself holding her breath…  
In the darkness of the cab, she couldn’t quite make out Patsy’s features, but given her brazen actions, she appeared to be throwing caution to the wind – propriety be damned it seemed!  
The intrepid fingers continued on their journey of exploration, working their way up under Delia’s dress until Patsy’s hand settled warm… no – searingly hot – on her thigh… those daring fingers playing along her stocking line, teasing the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.  
  
Delia let out a shuddering breath and glanced sideways at Patsy, and then furtively flicked her eyes towards the driver. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her pulse was pounding in her ears so loudly, that surely he must hear it. However, the driver seemed oblivious, concentrating instead on the muted music drifting from the radio in the cab, and on the road ahead.  
  
The cab made its way out of the Montmartre side streets and onto the main roads, and now sudden shafts of light from these more brightly lit streets illuminated the interior of the cab like a slow-motion strobe.  
In those brief flashes of light, she caught the slightest of smiles playing across Patsy’s lips as she gazed out of the cab window. As the streetlights continued to strobe, Delia began to feel somewhat entranced, as though slipping gradually into some kind of surreally sensual waking dream. She cleared her throat nervously and squirmed slightly in her seat as her insides clenched suddenly and pleasurably, and her thigh began to tremble under Patsy’s touch.  
  
Patsy turned to face Delia then, and her eyes were dark and hooded, unreadable and obscured in shadows. She leaned in close, her lips brushing lightly against the smaller woman’s ear.  “Gosh, you’re still shivering,” she whispered, “don’t worry – it won’t be long before I have you warmed up.”  
Then she quickly straightened up and gazed out of the window again as though nothing of any significance had transpired… except that her hand was still high up under Delia’s dress, and that mysterious, knowing smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth…  
  
Delia was indeed shivering – just not from the cold – and she found herself very nearly failing to fight down an overwhelmingly strong urge to kiss that mouth fully and deeply, right there in the back of the cab… propriety be damned…  
  
Just then – and perhaps just in time – they reached their destination.  
The driver flicked on the interior lights, rousing Delia from her dazed state. Patsy immediately removed her hand from its soft, warm resting place and Delia quickly smoothed her hemline back into place.  
  
After thanking the driver and handing over the fare, they hastily exited the cab and found themselves once more in the cool dampness of the April shower.  
Now Delia truly did begin to shiver with cold – they both did – and they made their way quickly up the steps to the doors of the hotel.  
  
Delia made to push her way through the heavy doors, but found to her horror that they wouldn’t budge. “Oh God Pats!” she whispered loudly, “we’re locked out!”  
She looked up at the huge, ornate doors in panic, suddenly feeling like a pupil nurse again, caught out of the nurses home after curfew.  
  
Then she felt a warm hand on the small of her back briefly as Patsy stepped past her towards the doors. “It’s alright Deels, there will be a night manager on duty,” Patsy reassured her, and then pushed the large brass button of the doorbell.  
  
They could hear the bell ringing brightly inside, and after only a moment, a smartly-dressed, middle-aged man appeared at the door to let them in.  
  
As they stepped into the warm hotel foyer, Patsy apologised for their lateness, “Désolé nous sommes si tard ce soir.”  
  
“Pas un problème madame. Aurez-vous besoin de quoi que ce soit d'autre ce soir?” the manager replied in politely hushed tones.  
  
Patsy paused, then replied “Oui ... euh, un instant s'il vous plaît …” then she turned to Delia, offered her their room key and whispered, “I’m just going to order us some breakfast for later in the morning, how about you go on up and run a hot bath?”  
  
Aware of the night manager’s presence Delia quickly took the keys, gave Patsy a little nod and a smile, then before a rising blush could fully form on her cheeks, she quickly took the lift to the fifth floor.  
As she approached the door to their room, she smiled to herself. She couldn’t quite believe it was possible, but she had a feeling that perhaps this weekend was about to get even _better_ …

 

* * *

  
_**15 hours earlier…**_  
  
They had taken the ‘Night Ferry’ sleeper train the day before from London Victoria to Paris Gare du Nord. Delia couldn’t believe it when they took their twin-berth sleeper cabin in First Class. She was already beside herself with excitement at the prospect of her first ever trip abroad, and she’d never imagined they’d be travelling in such style.  
Patsy had laughed affectionately at her wide-eyed delight and said, “It’s not the Orient Express Deels – it just means we don’t have to get out and walk off the boat at the other side like the folk in the cheap seats. You see, the first class carriage goes all the way to Gare du Nord…”  
  
Now Delia stood next to Patsy at the reception desk in the beautiful Art Nouveau foyer of the Château Frontenac hotel, and observed riveted, as the taller woman engaged in a quite lengthy – and apparently heated – discussion with the hotel manager.  
  
“Oui, mais quand j'ai appelé la semaine dernière, j'ai _spécifiquement demandé_ une chambre avec une salle de bain…” Patsy explained, with a tone of exasperation in her voice.  
  
“Je suis désolé madame, la seule chambre avec une salle de bain est un _double_ …” the manager replied, looking pointedly at Delia.  
  
Delia pulled herself up to her full height and raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. She didn’t understand what he’d said, but she decided she didn’t like his tone…  
  
Patsy wasted no time retorting in short, clipped tones, her voice rising slightly as she spoke, “Mon compagnon de voyage est un _collègue_. C'est un voyage de _travail_. Nous sommes parfaitement capables de partager un lit sans faire _d'histoires_!!”  
  
The manager flinched slightly under Patsy’s steely-eyed stare, glanced quickly around the foyer, and then appeared to back down… “Très bien…” he replied quietly, then he took a set of keys from a pigeon-hole behind him and handed them over to Patsy, “Vous êtes invités à prendre la suite Frontenac au cinquième étage.”  
  
Patsy nodded and accepted the keys with a curt “Merci”, then turned to Delia and whispered, “It’s alright – everything is fine now – let’s get settled-in.  
  
Delia nodded and asked in a low voice, “did he make some kind of insinuation?”  
  
Patsy nodded, “Yes he did, but don’t worry – I put him straight.”

 

* * *

  
  
Delia couldn’t believe her eyes when they entered what was to be their room for the weekend. “Oh my… Pats, it’s _huge_!” she exclaimed in disbelief.  
The room was easily three times as large as her dorm at Nonnatus. Huge floor to ceiling windows flooded the room with light, and an enormous double bed dominated the room. She had never seen such a large bed and she had to suppress a sudden urge to immediately get into it. Adjacent to a large double wardrobe was an ornate wooden door. Delia crossed the room and opened it – and stepped into an incredible bathroom.  
  
“Pats!” she exclaimed excitedly, her voice echoing off the ornately-tiled walls, “ _Pats –_ come and see this!!”  
  
Patsy appeared in the doorway a moment later and nodded in satisfaction, “Oh yes, this is definitely worth the little _tête-à-tête_ at reception!”  
  
Every surface was richly tiled, there were twin wash-hand basins on one wall, along with a veritable throne of a toilet. The pièce de résistance however, was the enormous free-standing bath-tub in middle of the floor.  
  
“Can we afford this Pats??” Delia breathed, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.  
  
“Yes actually, we can,” Patsy confirmed, “our little pot of savings turned out to be larger than expected,” she explained, “…plus, I added some money of my own – an allowance from my father on my eighteenth birthday – which I’ve never wanted to spend. Until now.”  
  
Delia’s eyebrows shot up at that, “What? Oh Pats, you shouldn’t have – that’s _your_ money…”  
  
“Yes, it is,” Patsy agreed, with a soft smile “and I want to spend it on you,” she stated simply.  
Then, before Delia could protest further she added, “ _and_ on myself – because I fully intend on squeezing as much enjoyment out of this weekend as I possibly can!”  
  
“Hear, hear!!” Delia clapped her hands delightedly, “I’d raise a glass to that, if I had one…!”  
  
Patsy chuckled, “Later darling… we don’t want to peak too soon!”

 

* * *

  
  
After unpacking, they took a short cab ride to the Place de la Concorde, where they had a light brunch of coffee and pain au chocolat, before spending the next few hours wandering through the Louvre, admiring the beautiful works of art on display there.  
  
The highlight for Delia was the Mona Lisa.  
She’d always dreamt of seeing it, and she entered the gallery where it was held with the same sense of giddy anticipation she felt when opening presents on Christmas day…  
  
… except at first, she couldn’t see it.  
She had to scan the gallery twice, before she realised that what she was looking for was not some epic, larger-than-life canvas, but rather a tiny almost postage-stamp sized painting, half-obscured by the crowd of admirers gathered round it.  As they worked their way to the front of the crowd however, Delia did not find herself disappointed, instead she marvelled at the delicate intricacies of the petite painting and found herself entranced by that oddly familiar, slightly mysterious, knowing smile…  
  
Just then, she felt Patsy’s hand in hers, “Penny for your thoughts…?” she whispered.  
  
“Oh, I was just thinking… she’s a lot smaller than I imagined…” Delia murmured, still somewhat under the Mona Lisa’s spell.  
  
Patsy squeezed her hand gently and leaned in to whisper, “I’ve found that the best things in life often are…”  
  
Delia managed to tear her eyes from the painting to find herself captivated by another, entirely more tangible beauty.  
“You’re a smooth talker Mount,” she said blushing slightly and shaking her head.  
  
“I only try to speak the truth,” Patsy replied with a wink, “now come on,” she tugged gently on Delia’s hand, “we need to get back to the hotel in time for dinner – and then we’re painting this town red!”

 

* * *

  
  
Over dinner in the hotel’s impressive dining room, the pair planned their evening entertainments. They decided to visit the Eiffel Tower first, and then Patsy suggested they explore the Montmartre district . There was a club there that she’d heard might suit them very well. Delia’s curiosity was immediately piqued, but when she pressed Patsy for details, all she received was a mysterious “ _You’ll see…_ ”  
  
Another short cab ride took them to the Eiffel Tower just as dusk was falling. They purchased their tickets at the kiosk and joined the throng of people climbing the stairs to the lift deck. They had to wait a short while before they could take the lift, but from this deck they were high enough to get an impressive view of the city, and they watched the sun set and the street lights come on. Soon however, it was their turn to take the lift, and they squeezed themselves in with a dozen or so other sightseers. Delia stood close to Patsy, and as the lift began its ascent she felt long fingers find hers.  
  
She glanced up at Patsy and whispered “Gosh, this is so exciting!”  
  
Patsy leaned closer and whispered back, “I know, isn’t it? Just wait till we get to the top though – the view will be amazing!”  
  
Delia glanced upwards through the small window in the ceiling of the lift. The huge, riveted girders of the tower whizzed by, revealed in brief flashes against the darkening night sky by the lights of the lift car. It seemed to Delia as though they might be flying through the skeleton of some gigantic, mythical beast. Soon they were passing through the most slender part of the tower and Delia felt her stomach flip giddily as she realised just how high they were.  
  
Then the lift halted at the upper deck of the tower, and the sightseers disembarked to take in the view.  
  
And what a view it was.  
Delia and Patsy took an almost simultaneous intake of breath as their eyes adjusted to the incredible sight before them. They stood in what looked like the most elegant – but enormous – gilded birdcage. Beyond this, and in every direction, the illuminated streets of Paris were laid out before them. Delia noticed that the street pattern seemed to radiate outwards and away from them, and being lit up and sparkling as they were, it was as though they were standing in the centre of a huge, exploding starburst.  
  
At various points around the viewing deck were large, coin-operated monoculars.  
Delia made a bee-line for one of them. Standing on tip-toes, she put her eye to the glass – only to find inky blackness. Quickly realising it was coin-operated, she rummaged in her purse, found the required 10 centime coin and popped it in the slot. Pressing her eye back to the glass, she now had an impressively enlarged view of the city. She scanned the scene and found a detailed view of the Arc de Triomphe off to her left. Then scanning back to her right, her eye was caught by a bright red flash. On closer inspection, she found that it looked like some kind of windmill…  
  
She turned from the lens and found Patsy just behind her, still gazing out over the city.  
  
“It’s so _beautiful_ Pats…” she whispered as the taller woman’s gaze came back to meet hers.  
  
“It really is Deels, more so than I imagined… the city of light… _La Ville-Lumière_ …” Patsy replied softly.  
  
Delia indicated to a point on the skyline, “There’s something over there that looks like a windmill, all lit up in red – take a look through the lens…”  
  
Patsy leaned forward and put her eye to the glass “Ah yes, that’s the Moulin Rouge…”  
  
“What? You mean _The_ Moulin Rouge??” exclaimed Delia in disbelief, “…the legendary Belle Epoque cabaret club???”  
  
Patsy laughed, “Yes – the very same!”  
  
“But I didn’t realise it still exists… is that the club were going to then?” Delia asked excitedly.  
  
“Not exactly…” Patsy replied, “… but we could take a look on the way, if you like?”

 

* * *

  
  
They caught a cab from the Tower, crossed the Seine via one of its many bridges and arrived in the Montmartre district only a short distance from the Moulin Rouge.  
As they approached the brightly lit club however, they could see that there appeared to be some kind of red-carpet event in progress. The pavement in front of the club was cordoned-off and a gang of paparazzi jockeyed for the best shots of all the ‘beautiful people’ making their way along the red carpet and into the club.  
  
They watched the spectacle from the other side of the street for a few moments but didn’t recognise any famous faces, so they continued on into Montmartre.  
  
“So what is this mysterious club you’re taking me to Pats?” Delia enquired as they walked the narrow, cobbled streets, passing busy cafes and bars along the way.  
  
Patsy looped her arm though Delia’s, “It’s called Le Monocle and I suppose it’s Paris’ version of the Gateways.”  
  
Delia was intrigued, “Really – and how did you find out about it?”  
  
“I mentioned in conversation to the barmaid at the Gates that we were coming to Paris, and she told me about it… she said we must make a point of going, in fact.” Patsy explained.  
  
Just then, they turned into a small lane and Patsy announced, “…and here we are!”  
  
Taking Delia’s hand, she led her towards the doors of the club. ‘Le Monocle’ was spelled out in bright bulbs above the door, it was nowhere near as garish as the Moulin Rouge, but it certainly pronounced itself much more loudly than the Gates did at home.  
  
They could hear muted music and the hubbub of a large crowd drifting out onto the street, and as they pushed through the doors, they were assaulted by a cacophony of sights and sounds.  
They found themselves in a packed foyer area and quickly joined the queue for the cloakroom. Once they’d handed over their coats, they made their way into the club towards the huge bar area, off to the side of which was a large dance floor, and beyond that, an area which was set out with cabaret-style tables in front of a small stage.  
  
“Shall we get a drink at the bar first?” Patsy enquired.  
  
“Oh, yes – I’m parched!” Delia stated then added, “I think a large G&T is required!”  
  
They found space at the bar, sipped their drinks and people-watched for a while.  
The dance floor was crowded with women, some wore dapper suits, whilst others were dressed more like themselves, and there seemed to be a wide range of age groups all enjoying the club.  
The atmosphere was charged but happy and it wasn’t long before Delia dragged Patsy – without much coaxing – up onto the floor. It was so liberating to be able to dance together again – especially to the slow songs – which found them moving together in unison and enjoying the close physical contact, often so rare in their daily lives.  
  
As the evening progressed a voice came over the speakers and announced something at length in french.  
  
Patsy helpfully translated: “They’re saying that the cabaret will start shortly and anyone interested should find a seat at the tables – shall we?”  
  
“Yes let's!” Delia replied enthusiastically, and they made their way to the tables.  
As they took their seats, they noticed that a small team of young women appeared to be serving the tables. They were all dressed smartly in sharply tailored ‘maitre d’ style outfits, and Patsy wasted no time in catching the attention of one. As the waitress approached, Patsy leaned over to Delia, “I think we should order champagne, what do you think?”  
  
Delia laughed delightedly, “Why not – we are in Paris after all!”  
  
Just as the show was about to start, the waitress appeared, placed an ice bucket on the table, poured their champagne then deposited the bottle into the ice with a flourish. Patsy added a generous tip to the payment and the waitress winked as she left, “Merci mesdames, profitez du spectacle!”  
  
“À la vôtre!” Patsy toasted, raising her glass in Delia’s direction.  
  
“Cheers!” Delia touched her glass to Patsy’s.  
  
They each took a long sip of the bright, golden liquid, smiled at each other in satisfaction and then settled-in to watch the show.  
  
And what a show it was.  
A dazzling variety of female performers whirled across the stage – there were fire-eaters, jugglers, contortionists and the obligatory can-can of course – but it was the final act which had Delia completely enthralled.  
  
Two slender, dark haired women strode onto the stage to the strains of a tango, they were equal in height and dressed identically all in black. Each wore impossibly high heels, figure-hugging trousers, halter-neck waistcoats and a trilby, pulled down low over their eyes.  
They moved as one, performing in complete symmetry the most complex moves that Delia had ever seen, their bodies never parting until the dance was done.  
  
Delia had been unable to tear her eyes away until she felt Patsy’s breath against her ear, “Well, those two were thoroughly fetching!” she whispered, then gazed over the rim of her glass at Delia before quickly draining the last of the champagne.  
  
Delia raised her eyebrows in surprise – such blatant and vocal appreciation of the female form was unusual for Patsy.  
  
Delia chuckled, “Not as fetching as you!” then added with a grin, “I like loose-tongued Pats – I’m going to make you drink champagne more often!”  
  
Patsy smiled, “I hate to say this, but it really is getting late, we should think about getting back to the hotel since we have a fairly full itinerary of sightseeing still to come tomorrow afternoon.” Then glancing at her watch she noted the lateness of the hour and added, “…or should I say today!”  
  
They made their way back to the foyer and collected their coats from the cloakroom.  
The entrance area was quieter than it had been earlier and as they made for the doors Delia now noticed an ancient looking photo booth tucked away in a dark corner.  
  
“Pats,” she touched the taller woman’s arm “I didn’t notice that earlier… what strange place for a photo booth”  
  
Patsy frowned and agreed, “Yes, that is a little unusual…we normally only see these in public buildings.”  
  
“Pardon… _English_ …?” a voice called, and they turned to see the cloakroom attendant beckoning them over.  
  
“Yes, we’re from London – we’re here on holiday...” Delia replied.  
  
The attendant smiled and nodded, and then in a thick accent explained, “the picture box is for patrons, so you can have photos with sweethearts…?”  
  
“Ah oui – merci!” Patsy nodded, thanking her before turning to Delia with devious look in her eye, “What a marvellous idea – let’s take some pictures…”  
  
Delia searched her purse and found some small-change, “I think I only have enough for one strip of pictures…”  
  
Patsy furrowed her brows, “OK, we’ll just have to make sure we get it right…”  
She took the change and indicated to Delia to enter the booth, “I’d like one of just you on your own first, if that would be alright…?”  
  
Delia smiled, “Of course it’s alright… but you’ll have to come in quick after the first shot…” Delia slipped into the booth and drew the curtain.  
  
Patsy fed the coins into the slot and waited…  
The mechanism of the booth whirred an rattled and after a few seconds a bright flash fired out from under the curtain.  
Patsy took that as her cue, quickly entered the booth and sat on Delia’s knee.  
  
“Pats!” Delia exclaimed in delighted surprise, “… but we’ll have to lower the seat or you won’t fit in the frame – _quick_ – there are only a few seconds between shots!!”  
  
They jumped up and spun the seat a few times to lower it, then threw themselves back onto it, giggling uncontrollably as Patsy perched precariously on Delia’s knee…. just in time…  
  
**FLASH!!!** … the second shot was taken.  
  
“Oh, lord knows what that one’s going to look like…” Delia’s giggles were turning into full laughter now.  
  
“Well, I know what the next one will look like…” Patsy stated. She leaned in and placed a kiss on Delia’s cheek, just as…  
  
**FLASH!!!** … shot three.  
  
As the seconds ticked down towards the last picture, Delia’s laughter subsided and she tilted her face up towards Patsy’s until their lips were almost touching “Patience Mount, are you _tipsy_?” her lips brushed lightly against Patsy’s as she spoke.  
  
“Maybe a little… but I know what I’m doing – and this is the picture I _really_ want…” She quickly captured Delia’s lips in a lingering kiss.  
  
Delia’s heart fluttered as she parted her lips and felt Patsy deepen the kiss. She almost forgot their surroundings for a moment, instinctively leaning into the taller woman – and throwing them both off balance.  
  
Patsy threw her arm out and braced herself against the wall of the booth or they most certainly would have toppled out through the curtain to land in a heap on the foyer floor…  
  
**FLASH!!!** …. the final shot.  
  
The bright light brought them back to the moment, although the kiss lingered on for a few seconds more. Eventually, reluctantly, they parted and managed to regain some composure.  
  
“I think we should take this elsewhere…” Patsy whispered softly.  
  
They alighted the booth with dignity intact and Patsy collected the strip of photos as they exited. It was still a little damp so she held it carefully at the edges for Delia to see.  
Delia’s eyes widened at the sequence of pictures, “ _Cripes_ Pats! You do realise we can’t ever let anyone see these…?”  
  
“That’s exactly the point Deels… these are for our eyes only,” Patsy replied with a knowing smile.  
She secreted the photos carefully into her bag and they pushed through the doors of the club and out into the street.

 

* * *

  
  
They retraced their steps through the now quiet lanes of Montmartre arm in arm, heading gradually towards the main thoroughfares with the aim of hailing a cab back to the hotel.  
A fine rain had begun to dampen the air and the cobbled streets glistened under the lampposts as they passed one of the many late-night cafes. They noticed a young woman sitting on the steps just ahead, smoking a cigarette and playing an accordion and, as they approached, she glanced up at them and smiled and began playing a tune with a slow, languorous rhythm.  
An almost-tango…  
  
“Let’s dance!” said Patsy suddenly, grabbing Delia at the waist and pulling her close.  
  
Completely caught off guard, all Delia could think to say was, “What? Pats, it’s raining…”  
  
Patsy laughed and replied simply, “I know!”  
  
Delia was quickly finding herself completely beguiled by this spontaneous version of her lover – a side of Patsy that was rarely fully revealed – and she couldn’t bare to break the spell.  
So, rather than fret over the rain, or the fact that they were in each other’s arms in the street for anyone to see, she simply closed her eyes and allowed Patsy to lead her in a slow dance.  
Her head rested against Patsy and she swayed gently with her to the music, almost in time to the heart she could feel beating out a gentle rhythm, so steady and so comforting, in her lover’s chest.  
  
As the song came to an end, the young accordionist applauded delightedly.  
They dropped some coins into the upturned hat at her feet and they heard her call, “Belle femme!” after them, as they continued on their way.  
  
They had walked only a few yards, when Patsy, still with her arm around Delia’s shoulders exclaimed, “Oh Deels, you’re shivering! We can’t have you catching a chill… we must get out of this rain…”  
Until then, Delia had been oblivious to the cold rain, but now suddenly, she began to feel it and she edged closer under the taller woman’s arm for warmth.  
  
Just then, Patsy spotted a cab and yelled _“TAXI!!”_ at the top of her voice…

 

* * *

  
  
_**Paris, Saturday the 7th of April 1962, 3:20am**_  
  
…After running a bath as instructed, Delia was already submerged and soaking in the luxuriously hot, foamy water by the time Patsy arrived back from reception.  
She should be exhausted by now, Delia thought to herself, but instead, her whole body was buzzing with excitement and anticipation.  
  
She heard the door to their suite click open and immediately recognised the pattern of Patsy’s footsteps crossing the floor of the bedroom. She called out, “Sorry Pats, my teeth were beginning to chatter from the chill of my damp clothes, so I just had to get in the bath…”  
  
“That’s quite alright sweetheart, I’m sorry I took a little longer than anticipated…” came the response from the next room.  
  
Then she heard Patsy to-ing and fro-ing in the bedroom for a moment… heard shoes being kicked off and the wardrobe door opening and closing… and then a loud ‘POP!’ which made her start in surprise…followed by the unmistakeable sound of a sparkling liquid being poured into glasses….  
  
…she was still sitting upright in the bath a few moments later, eyebrows quizzically raised, when Patsy appeared in the bathroom doorway.  
Leaning casually against the door frame, she was clad in one of the fluffy hotel robes… only she hadn’t bothered to tie it…  
Delia blinked and swallowed, and was unable to stop her eyes from seeking out and lingering on the tantalising flashes of creamy white skin that were revealed as Patsy moved into the room. Her damp copper tresses, now freed from their usual restraints, fell around her shoulders and in each hand she clasped a broad-bowled champagne coupe filled with glittering golden liquid.  
  
Taking in the sight before her, Patsy shook her head and chuckled softly, “I _was_ going to wait for you, but then the steam floating out of the bathroom was so enticing, and now seeing you in a bath which is _easily_ big enough for us both – and with only bubbles to spare your blushes – well, it really is just too inviting to resist!”  
  
She paused and cocked an eyebrow, “do you mind if I join you?”  
  
Delia canted her head and cocked her own eyebrow in response, “I was hoping you would…” and immediately moved forwards in the water to make more room.  
  
Patsy’s lips curled into that familiar, lop-sided smiled, “Here, take these then,” she said and quickly handed over the two glasses.  
  
Delia spent a captivating second or two watching as the robe slid to the floor and the beautiful, alabaster-skinned woman stepped into the bath behind her and lowered herself slowly into the frothy bubbles.  
Surely – she wondered, as she felt Patsy’s long legs fit snuggly either side of her – surely, right then in this moment, she must be the luckiest girl alive…  
  
“Oh, this is just _devine_!” Patsy sighed contentedly as she relaxed into the hot water.  
Leaning forwards over Delia’s shoulder, she took one of the champagne glasses, touched it to Delia’s with a ringing ‘clink’ and then took a long sip.  
  
Delia followed suit taking a sip of the lively liquid gold, “Mmm Pats, this is lovely!” she exclaimed, smiling her approval over her shoulder at Patsy.  
  
“Well, we normally have a little whisky nightcap after a night out, don’t we?” Patsy explained and then added, “but since we’re in Paris, I thought this was much more fitting.”  
  
Delia nodded taking another sip, “I commend your choice again Pats!”  
  
They sipped in contended silence for moment or two, then Patsy laid her glass on the edge of the bath and unwrapped a bar of the complimentary luxury soap.  
“I could wash your back for you, if you like…?” she whispered over Delia’s shoulder.  
  
Delia took one more sip from her glass before setting it aside, “Yes please, that would be lovely Cariad.”  
  
Patsy carefully swept Delia’s long dark hair out of the way, then worked the bar of soap in her hands until they were coated in a thick creamy lather. Then she began to slowly work the lather into Delia’s skin.  
  
“You really do have beautiful shoulders – have I told you that?” Patsy commented quietly.  
  
Delia smiled briefly to herself and murmured softly, “I don’t think you have… but thank you…” Then straightening her back and resting her arms on the sides of the bath, she closed her eyes and let Patsy’s hands work their magic.  
  
Gliding smoothly over her skin, they deftly but gently massaged the muscles of her upper back before continuing to her shoulders and arms.  
  
“…and your skin…” Patsy’s voice came again, low and quiet, “God…those _freckles_ … I just…” her voice trailed off into a deep sigh.  
  
Delia sighed her appreciation as Patsy’s fingers slowly kneaded deltoids, biceps and triceps, “Mmmmm… that feels heavenly…”  
  
“Good…” Patsy leaned forwards, her breath soft against Delia’s ear, “… now, how does _this_ feel..?”  
Her hands slid back up over Delia’s shoulders and found her neck, thumbs applying gentle pressure to the upper trapezius muscles, fingers caressing her throat.  
  
Delia’s neck was one of her most sensitive places, and she felt a sudden fizz of electricity ripple through her core.  
All she could manage in response to Patsy’s query was a murmured “ _Mmmmm…_ ” followed by the briefest of nods.  
  
Patsy’s hands smoothed more of the luxuriantly foamy lather round onto Delia’s throat and down across her chest, and then she began gently working on the pectoral muscles just above the breasts.  
Delia felt her skin prickle and her insides shiver in pleasure. Giving in to the building sensations coursing through her body, she leaned back further onto Patsy. Her head came to rest on the the taller woman’s shoulder, and the pair now reclined cheek to cheek in the enveloping warmth of the bath water. Steam rose from their glistening skin in slow tendrils and Delia could feel the wonderfully silky-soft mounds of Patsy’s breasts pressed against her shoulder-blades.  
Her heart began to pound.  
  
“Would you like me to continue?” Patsy enquired, her voice low and husky, her lips feathering Delia’s cheek.  
  
Another little nod and a whispered ‘Yes’.  
  
Delia turned her face towards Patsy, and then those full, oh-so-soft lips were on hers.  
The kiss was slow, soft and sensual, and at the same time, Patsy ran her soapy hands over Delia’s breasts, cupping them gently. Delia responded immediately, allowing Patsy’s tongue access to deepen the kiss.  
Then Patsy ran slippery thumbs over taught nipples and Delia felt a huge shiver of pleasure run through her body, culminating in an unmistakeable bloom of heat in her groin.  
  
Feeling the involuntary movement, Patsy snaked one arm down and around Delia’s waist and held her safely against her own body.  
At the same moment, Delia broke the kiss with a sharp inhalation of breath, grabbed Patsy’s other hand from her breast and firmly plunged it beneath the water, pressing it palm-down onto her dark curls.  
  
She felt Patsy nod her head and then long fingers dipped into silken folds, gently seeking and quickly finding her firm little bud, swollen with arousal.  
As Patsy teased her –  ever so slowly at first – Delia’s breaths became deep and measured. Her hips began to rock, matching the rhythm of her breaths and an intense heat began to build within her. Gently, Patsy applied a little more pressure and tempo and Delia felt the hot pressure within her build and her breathing become more rapid. Her hips moved of their own volition and bath water lapped over the edge of the bath to splash onto the floor.  
  
“Pats _please_ …” she managed to gasp in between breaths, “… I… _oh!_ …I need you in me!”  
  
Delia parted her legs as far as the confines of the bath would allow, and Patsy quickly stretched her arm a little further, carefully dipping two fingers deep inside her love, whilst pressing the heel of her hand firmly back onto that most sensitive spot.  
  
Even in the warm bath water, Delia was so slick and ready that she barely felt Patsy enter her – until those fingers applied rhythmic pressure inside her. The intense tingling within her began to build to such a crescendo that Delia could contain it no longer. Her breath held, her body arched out of the water and she yielded to the exquisite release, a low cry echoing softly off the tiled walls as she sank back into Patsy’s soft embrace.  
  
Patsy held her as the final shudders of the climax subsided, before slowly and carefully withdrawing her fingers from Delia’s body.  
They lay together blissfully for a long while before Patsy eventually broke the silence.  
  
“Well,” she whispered against her lover’s ear, “are we warmed up yet?”  
  
“I should say so!” Delia chuckled quietly.  
She rolled over in the water to face Patsy and placed a slow kiss on her lips, before adding, “but I think this water is starting to get cold… so, before we cool-off too much, I’m taking you to bed….”  
  
They towelled each other dry and retired to the bedroom, where Delia spent what remained of the night lavishing her attention over every beautiful inch of Patsy’s body.  
She thrilled at the sight and sound of her lover slowly coming undone under her touch. Her heart soared as Patsy finally surrendered and came, softly crying her name into the half-light of the morning….

 

* * *

  
  
….Delia shifted and stretched under the sheets smiling to herself as Patsy’s arm around her waist unconsciously held her tighter. With her eyes closed, and in that deeply comforting space somewhere between waking and sleep, she sighed contentedly. Marvellous things were swirling through her mind’s eye: foamy bubbles; steamy skin; acres of toned pale flesh trembling at her every touch; soft, sweet sighs into the darkness; an ardent, glorious heartbeat thrumming as she held her lover close, all the way to dawn…  
  
…. and knocking.  
Distant at first, but soon becoming closer. Yes, it was definitely a knocking noise. Now louder and more insistent.  
  
Delia frowned….  
The knocking was now accompanied by a muffled voice speaking words that were not familiar to her… _“….service de chambre!"_  
  
Patsy’s arm suddenly withdrew from her waist, jolting her awake.  
“Pats…..?” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep, rubbing her eyes drowsily.  
  
“Oh lord!” Patsy exclaimed as she sprang out of bed, “it’s room service – gosh, is it 11 o’clock already?!?”  
  
Without waiting for a response, Patsy sprinted into the bathroom and retrieved her discarded robe from the floor there. Hastily tying it tightly at the waist, she called out to the poor chap in the hallway outside, “Oui! Oui… un moment s'il vous plaît!!”  
  
“What shall I do!?” Delia asked, fully awake now and in a state of mild panic as she took in the rumpled and dishevelled sate of the bed before her.  
  
“Just stay where you are,” Patsy instructed as she hurriedly smoothed the sheets up to Delia’s neck and arranged the blanket neatly on top. “There – that looks a lot less _slept_ in – if you know what I mean…” she muttered making her way quickly to the door. Turning to look over her shoulder at Delia’s worried expression, she added gently, “it’s OK Deels, don’t look so guilty – they know we’re sharing this room and we have every right to be here.”  
  
Delia tried to compose herself and pulled the covers up to her chin as Patsy opened the door to admit the hotel porter.  
She needn’t have worried. The fellow barely cast a glance in her direction while he set their breakfast on the table by the window and then left quietly.  
  
As the door clicked shut again, Patsy leaned back against it and sighed. She gazed steadily at Delia for a very long moment.  
  
“Pats… _what_ …?” Delia eventually asked, hesitantly.  
  
A slow smiled hooked one corner of Patsy’s mouth, “Oh, it’s just… I don’t want the weekend to end!”.  
Then she strode purposefully across the room towards the bed, roughly tugged the belt of her robe loose and shrugged the whole thing off to the floor.  
  
“Would you like some breakfast in bed?” she enquired, completely ignoring the spread laid out on the table, as she lifted the sheets and climbed back in beside Delia.  
  
Delia felt her heart pick up a pace and a renewed flush of pleasure ripple through her, “I certainly would!”  
  
Yes, thought Delia then, as Patsy peppered soft kisses over her face and neck, the weekend – as she’d earlier suspected it would – had exceeded every one of her expectations… and it wasn’t even over yet!  
There would always be a place in her heart now for ' _La Ville-Lumière'_.

* * *

  
**TBC...**

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: my french is ropey at best, so apologies to you all if I have butchered your native tongue....
> 
> The Night Ferry: was an international sleeper train between London Victoria and Paris Gare du Nord (and later also Brussels). Until the Eurostar service began on 14 November 1994, the Night Ferry had been the only through passenger train between Great Britain and Continental Europe.
> 
> Le Monocle: Opened by Lulu de Montparnasse, Le Monocle was one of the first—and perhaps the most famous—lesbian nightclubs in Paris. So called because in the 1930s, lesbian women commonly wore a monocle and a white carnation to subtly signify their sexuality. It opened in the 1920s and flourished through the early 1940s, until it was closed due to the Nazi occupation of France. Years later, the club was reopened, but never again reached its original glory.


	6. I love how you think of me without being told to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's deepest darkest January 1963:  
> Delia anxiously awaits the results of her midwifery exams...  
> Patsy has a few surprises up her sleeve – or should I say in her pocket...?

* * *

 

 _ **Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 12:00 noon.**_  
  
Delia sighed in satisfaction and leaned back in her chair.  
The breakfast was marvellous and was just what she needed. It had – oddly enough – settled her stomach somewhat, which up to this point had been churning with excitement at the thought of the day to come.  
The little photos from Paris all those years ago still lay on the table and Delia smiled again as she gathered them up and tucked them safely back into their hiding place.  
She picked up her glass and sipped the last of her champagne, savouring the sensation of the lively bubbles prickling on the roof of her mouth, and then the bittersweet aftertaste as she swallowed the delicate pink liquid. She glanced over the breakfast table at Patsy and found her love’s clear blue eyes gazing steadily back.  She too sipped on her champagne, but those magical bubbles did not appear to be going to her head this time.  A soft expression played on her features and the spring sunlight streaming through the large windows behind her cast a soft glow through her hair.  
  
Almost like a halo.  
Delia’s breath caught for a moment… _a sort of angel_ …  
  
A smile started to tug at one corner of Patsy’s mouth and Delia blinked.  
  
Spell broken.  
  
Delia shook her head and chuckled, “You know… you look like the cat who got the cream.”  
  
Patsy’s face transformed into a full beaming smile, “I know, and I think I have every right to. I’m about to make you my wife – and become yours,” she raised her eyebrows in slight disbelief and added, “I’m barely managing to contain my joy right now.”  
  
“Me too sweetheart,” Delia leaned over and placed a kiss on Patsy’s forehead and whispered, “and we’ll be able to let the world see that joy soon enough.”  
She sighed happily and continued, “You know, going to Paris with you all those years ago was the most thrilling thing I’d ever done at that point,” then eyes sparkling with mischief, she corrected herself, “I mean to say, _one_ of the most thrilling things I’d ever done with you… which makes me look back at all the roads – both literal and figurative – that we’ve travelled together to get to this very moment in our lives… and well, I think we’ve more than earned that joy, you and I.”  
  
Patsy was gazing at her intently now, her ice-blue gaze almost appraising.  
  
“Pats…?” Delia faltered.  
  
Patsy arched an eyebrow, “You know, sometimes it’s as though you can read my mind…”  
With that, she got up and rummaged in one of the zip pockets of her suitcase and produced two BA tickets with a flourish and a grin, “Gatwick to Paris. We leave on a 4:30pm flight tomorrow afternoon, so we should have just enough time to go home and pack some holiday items.”  
  
Delia felt her jaw drop.  
  
Patsy took in her astonished expression and quickly carried on, “Um, I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty… I know you wanted to wait a little before choosing our honeymoon, but I just couldn’t resist… I even managed to book a suite in the Château Frontenac – and after finding those old photos just now, I’m very glad I did!”  
  
Delia finally found her voice, “What? The same hotel – really!?”  
  
Patsy laughed, “Yes, really! I’m not entirely sure, but it may even be the same suite… of course, it’s changed a lot over the years, but it still looks top-end.”  
  
“Oh Pats, it’s perfect – it really is!” Delia leapt up then, gathered Patsy close and placed a soft kiss on her lips, “I think perhaps it is you who is the mind-reader, sweetheart.”

* * *

  
  
_**Nonnatus House, Monday the 21st of January 1963, 6:15am.**_  
  
Delia sat at the Nonnatus House dining table alone.  
This was a brief calm precluding the others arriving to take breakfast before heading out on district rounds, or shifts at the clinic.  
Muffled in a heavy woollen blanket over her uniform and with her hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, she tried to ward off the deep chill now creeping relentlessly into her bones.  
The ancient boiler had failed – _again_ – and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this cold. If not for her shift today, she’d still be upstairs, snuggled up all warm and cozy under a multitude of covers with Pats.  
  
Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a long sip of the scalding-hot liquid and shivered.  
It wasn’t just the cold that was getting to her, if she were being honest she felt a little worn-out too.  The last nine months had been an unstoppable roller-coaster… saying goodbye to Pats…  not knowing when – _if_ – she’d ever be back…  worrying about her constantly the whole time… and all the while studying for her midwifery exams.  
In the end she’d used her studies as a distraction and it had turned out quite well. She’d really gotten her teeth into the practical training, throwing herself into it and excelling well above most of her peers on the course. Written tests on the other hand, she’d always found daunting, but with diligent studies she’d come out of the exams feeling that she’d given it her best – despite the final part being only two days after her emotional reunion with Patsy.  
  
The exam results would be here any day now. She was trying not to think about that.  
Patsy had also received an important letter this week – the final instructions from her father’s solicitor – in fact she was going to the solicitor’s office today to sign all the legal documents pertaining to her father’s estate.  
  
Delia took another warming sip of her hot milky brew and at the same moment heard the chatter of voices as the others made their way down to breakfast. Her contemplative solitude was about to be shattered. Only now did she realise just what an emotional toll the last year had taken on her. She knew Patsy was quite exhausted too. Gosh, she thought then – how lovely would it be to take little holiday? Just the two of them. Perhaps they could take a long-weekend away and forget about everything for a few days…  
  
True – they had taken a little break away over Christmas but it hadn’t been _entirely_ relaxing.

* * *

  
  
It had been two weeks after Patsy’s return that the letter had arrived.  
  
It was from Mam.  
In truth it was more of a note than a letter. In it, she enquired as to how Delia was, and since they’d hardly seen her all year, would she come to visit for a few days over Christmas?  
She also wrote that they were now _‘on the telephone_ ’, and that it would be lovely if Delia could call to make arrangements.  
  
She’d shown Patsy the letter that evening.  
They’d sat side-by-side on Patsy’s bed in their shared room, Delia staring at the floor with her knee bobbing rapidly in a nervous twitch as the older woman quickly read the note.  
  
Reaching the end of Mrs Busby’s brief and perfunctory missive, Patsy paused and re-folded the paper carefully.  
“Deels?” she asked quietly, “When did you last visit them?”  
  
Delia felt Patsy’s eyes weighing heavily on her and finally lifted her gaze to meet clear ice-blue.  
“Early spring I think, just after we got back from Paris – and not long before you had to leave…”  
  
“And you haven’t seen them since?”  
  
The question was asked gently and with no hint of accusation, but Delia instantly felt a stab of guilt.  
“No, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to be away incase I missed you coming back,” she whispered almost inaudibly.  She dropped her gaze to the floor again and added, “And now it’s been so long… and I know what Mam will be like…”  
  
Patsy sighed and reached for Delia’s hand, squeezing it gently, “Oh Deels, I’m so sorry.”  
  
Delia looked up quickly as another pang of guilt pricked sharply.  
“What? Oh, no Pats – I didn’t mean it like that… it’s not _your_ fault!” her knee now bouncing even more rapidly, her heel rapping out a staccato on the floorboards.  
  
Patsy placed her hand gently on Delia’s knee. She held it there, warm and calming until the nervous bobbing slowed then stilled.  
“Deels,” she said softly, “I know what it is to become estranged from one’s family – how easily it can happen and how lonely it can become – I really do think you should visit.”  
  
Delia sighed and smiled ruefully, “I know Pats – and you’re absolutely right… but you only just got back, and I want to spend Christmas with _you_.” She placed her own hand over Patsy’s and they both sat in silence for a few moments. Then Delia hesitantly spoke, “Pats…? I’m going to ask you something – and please don’t feel you have to say yes – but… would you come with me?”  
  
Patsy’s face broke into a wide smile and she squeezed Delia’s hand, “Of course I’ll come with you – as long as it won’t upset your parents…”  
  
Delia felt a slow relief wash though her. In truth, this was something that she had considered often over the years.  
  
_How wonderful would it be to take Patsy home to Wales?_  
_True, she’d already had one or two (albeit tense) meetings with Mam…_  
_But she just knew her Da’ would love Patsy – and surely Mam would warm to her eventually…_  
  
Pulling Patsy into a quick hug she whispered, “Thank you,” then she planted a soft kiss on her lips and added, “I love you. I’ll call Mam in the morning.”  
  
Patsy narrowed her eyes and grimaced, “Good. I think…” she replied hesitantly, “and I shall gird my loins in preparation.”

* * *

  
  
Initially, Mam had been pleased to hear that Delia would be visiting at Christmas.  
As soon as Patsy was mentioned however, her tone changed immediately. _“Well, I don’t know where she’ll sleep,”_ Mam’s voice drifted down the crackly line, all tinny and disgruntled, _“we only have the one guest room.”_  
  
Delia sighed, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all…  
Then she heard Da’s voice pipe-up in the background: _“Don’t be daft Carys, there’s plenty of room – I’m sure they won’t mind doubling-up – it’s only for a couple of nights!”_  
  
Delia smiled. Her Da’ – the voice of reason.  
And then she held her breath for her mother’s response…  
  
There was an overly dramatic sigh at the other end of the line, and then: _“Well I suppose that’s settled then. We’ll look forward to seeing you – ring us from the station and your Da’ will come with the car and collect you."_

* * *

  
  
_**Abergwaun Pembrokeshire, Christmas Eve 1962.**_  
  
They’d taken an early train from London that morning, changed at Cardiff and then continued on, heading north-west across Pembrokeshire.  
Looking out through the carriage windows there was nothing but clear azure skies over a pristine white blanket covering the rolling landscape, it sparkled in the sunshine as far as the eye could see.  
  
The train had been fitted with a huge snow-plough and every so often they would cross a large drift on the line. The snow was no match for the powerful steam engine however, and it simply surged on, exploding out through the other side of each drift in a glittering shower of snow and ice, spitting out smoke and soot from its chimney, its whistle shrieking like a mythical welsh dragon of lore.  
As the train rammed through yet another large drift, Patsy reached for Delia’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Turning from the carriage window she found Patsy leaning forward in her seat enthralled with the stunning vistas rushing by outside, a delighted smile lighting her features and her face glowing with excitement, “This is absolutely _the_ best train journey I’ve ever been on!” she whispered breathlessly.  
  
Delia laughed, “Well at least this, if nothing else will make the trip worthwhile!”  
  
“Deels!” Patsy chided gently, “Everything is going to be fine – we’re spending Christmas together after all – and that alone makes it more than worthwhile!”  
  
At 4:00pm the train made its final stop – end of the line – Abergwaun station.  
The platform looked out over a busy harbour. It was dusk and the sky above was fading into a deep dark blue as they alighted the train with their overnight bags in hand. Stars were beginning to shine, hesitantly mirroring the distant lights of the fishing boats twinkling in the bay below.  
  
Delia sought out the phone booth and called her parents, whilst Patsy procured two cups of coffee from the platform kiosk.  
The temperature was plummeting rapidly, and they stood on the now deserted platform waiting for Delia’s father to arrive, their hands wrapped around hot paper cups, gratefully sipping the warming black liquid as their breaths condensed into little puffs of vapour in the frigid air.  
  
Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long.  
  
Fifteen minutes later and quick, sharp footsteps could be heard through the station building announcing his approach – and then he appeared on the platform – a small round grey haired man, very well dressed in a smart suit, overcoat and trilby. As he caught sight of them, his face widened into a delighted smile and two deep dimples dotted his rosy cheeks.  
  
“Oh, my little sprout, there you are!” he exclaimed in a pronounced welsh accent, spreading his arms wide as he came closer.  
  
Patsy glanced at Delia in amusement at the quirky endearment but had no time to comment as the smaller woman threw herself into her father’s arms.  
  
Mr Busby held Delia tight for several moments, then he stepped back holding her at arms length and scrutinised her carefully top to toe, “It’s so good to see you sweetheart – and you’re looking so well!” Then stealing a glance over her shoulder he exclaimed, “And surely this must be Patsy!”  
  
Patsy beamed a wide smile and stepped forward, extending her hand, “Yes, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Busby.”  
  
Mr Busby smiled wider still, dimples deepening. He took Patsy’s hand in both of his and shook it warmly, “It is indeed lovely to meet you my dear – and please – call me Emlyn.”  
Stepping back he stooped and lifted their bags, “Well then, lets get you both out of this cold – the car is just outside – follow me.”  
  
The Busby’s old Humber Hawk rattled and bounced over the cobbled streets of Abergwaun, Delia sitting in the front passenger seat and Patsy hanging on in the rear.  
As they travelled along the narrow streets, some lined with shops and businesses, Delia turned in her seat and pointed to the left, “that’s my Da’s draper’s shop just there – or, it was…”  
  
Patsy leaned forward to better see, “Oh yes, I see it!” and as they drove on past the shop she queried, “So… you don’t live above the shop anymore?”  
  
Emlyn turned his head slightly as he drove on, “No, I retired two years ago – arthritic fingers see?” He waggled his fingers on the steering wheel as if to demonstrate, “Not conducive to tailoring, so I sold the business as a going concern and we downsized into one of the new bungalows they built on the edge of the village.” He drove on a little further and then added, “Once David got married and moved to Swansea to work in the steel mills, and then Delia left for London, the old place just didn’t feel the same – and it was too big for just me and your Mam. The bungalow suits us both a lot better.”  
  
The road soon took them into a quiet residential area where the streets were lined with modern detached houses, their windows displaying festive decorations, all bright and cheery. Finally Emlyn turned the large old car off the road and parked it in the driveway of one of the neat little bungalows.  
“Here we are!” he got out and opened the door for Patsy while Delia grabbed their bags from the boot. “Come on in then,” he called over his shoulder as he opened the front door of the little house, “Let’s get you two settled in and warmed up. It’s absolutely perishin’ out ‘ere!”  
  
They entered into a small vestibule area just inside the door, Patsy followed Delia and Emlyn’s lead by hooking her coat and scarf on the coat stand.  
Just then, Mrs Busby appeared from the living room doorway and made her way quickly along the hallway to greet them. “There you are Cariad!” she pulled Delia into a quick hug, “So lovely to see you,” then glancing at Patsy she added, “and you Patsy.”  
  
It was almost like an afterthought and Delia felt herself bristling immediately.  
_Why did Mam always have to be like this?_  
  
Patsy spoke up then, “It’s lovely to see you again Mrs Busby, and thank you for letting me stay in your home, it’s very kind of you.”  
Delia glanced at her girlfriend – Patsy seemed to know exactly what to say in these situations. Delia caught her Da’s eye briefly and saw him suppressing a smile.  
  
However, Mrs Busby pulled herself up with a quiet _‘harrumph’_ and replied, “Yes, well you’re going to have to share the guest room with Delia, but I suppose there’s nothing to be done about that now.”  
  
There would be no offer of first-name terms here it seemed.  
Delia flushed red and opened her mouth to speak – a sharp rebuke on the tip of her tongue – but Emlyn saw it coming and quickly intercepted, “Come on then Delia, why don’t we get you and Patsy settled-in?” as he led them down the hallway he turned back to his wife, “Why don’t you get the kettle on love? The girls must be parched after their journey.”  
  
Mrs Busby nodded brusquely and bustled off towards the kitchen.  
  
Emlyn led them towards the rear of the house and showed them to the guest room.  
It was just large enough to accommodate a double bed, wardrobe and dressing table with a little room to spare.  
Just as he was leaving, Emlyn turned to Patsy, “Make yourself at home love. And pay no heed to Carys, she’s a stickler for social propriety, but she’ll calm down soon enough. Just know that you are very welcome here.”  
  
Patsy smiled, “Thank you Mr…” but she was cut short as Emlyn held up his hand. She laughed and started again, “Thank you _Emlyn_ , you’re very kind, and I appreciate that more than I can say.”  
  
This time it was Emlyn who laughed. He turned to Delia in mock surprise, “Well now, she’s a smooth talker this one, isn’t she?”  
  
Delia looked at him incredulously and punched him lightly on the arm, _“Da’!?”_  
  
Emlyn chuckled and retreated back into the hall, “Right then, I’ll leave you to get unpacked. Don’t be long though, there’ll be some tea in the lounge in a minute – and then we can catch up properly.”  
  
Once the door had closed Patsy turned to Delia, “Your father is really lovely!”  
  
“I know.” Delia crinkled her nose and added, “But for goodness sake don’t tell him that, or you’ll never be rid of him!”  
  
“Ha!” Patsy laughed heartily at that, “Like father, like daughter then…” she teased gently before adding with a smirk, “I seem to recall telling you that you were lovely once – and look what happened!”  
  
Delia narrowed her eyes – now it was her turn to _‘harrumph’_ …

* * *

  
  
The small lounge was warm and inviting, with a small wood and coal fire crackling gently and a bedecked Christmas tree over by the window with its lights twinkling merrily.  
Delia and Patsy had brought a few small presents along with them which they now placed carefully under the tree beside a myriad of other brightly-wrapped parcels. Mrs Busby seemed to have mellowed slightly in the time it had taken her to brew some tea and she politely served them mince pies followed by some sweet sherry – an aperitif to a hearty supper of lamb casserole with huge chunks of freshly-baked crusty bread.  
  
Afterwards Emlyn opened a bottle of his finest brandy, pouring them generous measures whilst Delia fielded her parents – mostly her Da’s – questions about work, training, and life in London.  
She dearly wanted to tell them everything. Longed to say it – _to just come out with it…_  
  
_I love my life._  
_And his woman who is sitting right here in your home, sipping Da’s best brandy and making polite small talk with you?_  
_Well – I love her even more._  
  
One glance in her mother’s direction however and she instantly knew her Mam was dreading exactly that.  
Delia could see it in her cold expression and her stiff posture, and she could hear it in her curt dismissals of anything to do with London or Patsy.  
  
Mam was simply going through the motions.  
Despite her growing frustration with her mother, Delia managed to steer the conversation onto the much safer topics of village and family gossip, and before they knew it, the clock on the mantelpiece was chiming eleven o’clock.  
  
“Goodness!” Emlyn exclaimed, “time does fly doesn’t it? I think I shall turn-in, we’ve a busy day ahead tomorrow.” He hauled himself out of his armchair and smiled at Patsy and Delia as he headed for the door, “Good night you two – we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, eh?”  
  
Mrs Busby nodded her agreement as she followed him to the door, “Yes, breakfast around eight o’clock I think.”  
  
Once they were certain Mr and Mrs Busby were settled for the night, Patsy and Delia retired to their room.  
Away from the warmth of the lounge they noticed the chill immediately. Patsy quickly unpacked whilst Delia wasted no time rushing to the bathroom to hurriedly wash and brush her teeth. On the return trip, she paused in the hallway and softly knocked before cracking the door open and whispering, _“It’s only me Pats…”_ as she entered.  
  
Patsy had turned off the bright ceiling light and had instead lit the small bedside lamps, giving the room an altogether warmer atmosphere – even though the temperature reminded them otherwise – and it was a moment or two before Delia’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.  
As they did, her breath caught in her throat.  
  
It wasn’t as though she’d never seen Patsy undressing before.  
Outside of their usual domestic environment however – _here, under her parent’s roof_ – it took her completely by surprise.  
As though seeing it for the first time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.  
  
Patsy had already removed her soft woollen pullover and was in the act of unbuttoning the fly on her jeans. Delia watched entranced as long fingers unhooked the final two buttons and then slipped down under the waistband. Then with a quick wiggle of the hips, snug denim was worked ever downwards – and Delia’s eyes followed – all the way down the length of her love’s long, shapely legs.  
  
_“You can’t look at me like that…”_  
  
Patsy’s voice, low and quiet made Delia’s eye’s snap instantly upwards. Jolted out of her trance, she felt the inevitable blush rising hotly into her cheeks.  
  
“… at least, not here anyway,” Patsy continued softly, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards and her eyes sparkling with… something…  
  
… that something which always made Delia’s heart flip disconcertingly in her chest…  
  
Finally finding her voice she whispered hoarsely, “I know… but I can’t help it. Blue jeans and not much else _really_ looks good on you – you should wear it more often.”  
  
Patsy cocked an eyebrow and stepped out of the jeans, and with an elegant efficiency of movement she quickly removed her underwear.  
  
Disrobing complete.  
  
“I am certain your mother would _not_ approve,” Patsy smirked as she pulled on her pyjama bottoms, tying them loosely at the waist and then shrugging the top roughly over her shoulders, “How about plaid PJs instead?”  
  
Delia chuckled softly, “I’m not sure she’d approve of those either…”  
Quickly crossing the room, she gently straightened the collar of the soft cotton garment then brought her hands over Patsy’s fingers, stilling them from fumbling with the buttons.  
Slowly and deliberately she proceeded to fasten them herself, working her way upwards until she stopped three buttons from the top – just as Patsy’s hands covered and stilled hers in turn.  
Looking up, she was met with clear ice-blue and then soft warm lips against her own. Closing her eyes and threading her arms around Patsy’s waist, she held on tight as the kiss became deeper, and then softer again, and then became gently lingering before their lips finally parted.  
  
Eyes still closed, Delia held on to the warming wave washing through her, following along in its wake for as long as she could.  
  
Patsy’s voice brought her safely back to the surface.  
“What are you thinking?”  
  
She opened her eyes to meet Patsy’s steady gaze.  
“Right now in this instant? … only that we were somewhere else,” Delia sighed, “anywhere else but here.”  
  
“I know…” Patsy whispered and pulled her back in for an enveloping hug, “we’ll be _somewhere else_ soon, just you and me – I promise.”  
Delia rested her head on Patsy’s chest and listened to the source of her love’s rich tones as they continued, “but for now we’re here, spending Christmas with your parents, and we really should try to enjoy it.”  
  
Delia raised her head, “About that… how are you doing sweetheart – are you coping?” she asked quietly.  
  
Patsy smiled and placed a soft kiss on Delia’s forehead, “So far… actually it’s been quite interesting meeting both of your parents, I recognise a few mannerisms in them that I see in you – although, I think you are definitely more like your father than your mother.”  
  
“Thankfully…” Delia whispered almost under her breath.  
  
Patsy played with a few locks of Delia’s hair, winding them loosely through her fingers before returning the question, “What about you Deels – how are you doing being back here after so long?”  
  
Delia paused a moment, gently chewing her lip as she considered her response.  
“Well, it is nice to be here for Christmas and I’m glad you gave me the prod I needed to get in touch with Mam and Da’ again.” She smiled and squeezed Patsy’s hand, “And I’m so glad you’re here with me. I feel sort of proud, you know – is that strange?” She placed her hand on her own chest and clarified, “I feel warm here you see, having you meeting my parents makes me feel like we’re a real thing, you and me,” then with a note of sadness in her voice she added, “even though I can’t actually tell them you’re the one I’m going to _‘settle down’_ with, as Mam would put it.”  
  
Patsy hugged Delia tight again and kissed the top of her head, “Of course we’re real,” she whispered, “perhaps we will be able to tell them that someday.”  
  
“I’m not so sure Pats… the way Mam is… and oh – I’m so sorry about her frostiness towards you, it’s _awful_ – I can’t bear it when she’s like this.”  
  
“I suppose it’s only because she cares about you and wants the best for you – and I understand that,” Patsy replied quietly.  
  
“Maybe, but I can’t make excuses for her. Deep down I’m sure she knows exactly what you mean to me… and… well, she just shouldn’t be this way,” Delia countered gently but firmly.  
  
Patsy placed another soft kiss on Delia’s forehead, “Come on, get your pyjamas and let’s get some shut-eye – I have a feeling the best preparation for tomorrow is going to be a good night’s sleep.”

* * *

  
  
The dawn light, amplified by the snow, cast a cold ethereal glow into the room and it woke them slowly as it seeped gradually around the edges of the drawn curtains.  
They nestled closer together, face to face with limbs and sheets entangled, each unwilling to be the first to leave their snug burrow of blankets. Soon however, the sound of Delia’s parents in the kitchen forced Patsy to make the first move.  
  
“Delia…” Patsy whispered as she opened her eyes and squinted, trying to focus on the apparently slumbering form currently clinging to her as a limpet would a storm-lashed rock.  
  
“ _Deels!”_ she whispered, loudly this time and attempted to prise herself free, “It’s Christmas day, and I can hear your parents making breakfast – we really must get up…”  
  
The little limpet simply clung on tighter.  
Then came a sleep-thick whisper from beneath a mass of dark tousled hair: “Mmmm… Merry Christmas Pats… what time is it..?”  
  
Patsy worked one arm free and brushed the hair from Delia’s face. She kissed the tip of her nose and whispered, “Merry Christmas Deels,” then she reached out and drew back the blanket adding, “I’m not exactly sure of the time, but if we don’t get up soon we’ll be late for breakfast.”  
  
Delia made another attempt to snuggle back down and almost succeeded in taking Patsy with her.  
  
“Hey, not so fast _Sprout!_ ” Patsy managed to wriggle free and climbed quickly out of bed.  
Delia’s face crinkled into a little frown and she squinted up at Patsy, “Oh… I was really hoping you hadn’t heard that last night…”  
  
Patsy smiled and tried not to laugh, “Oh I heard it alright, and you should know that I’m filing it away for future reference.”  
She pulled the blankets down to the foot of the bed and then gently extricated Delia from the foetal position she was now curling into, before finally pulling the small grumbling brunette to her feet. “Now come on Busby,” Patsy gently harried, “let’s get ready for breakfast – I for one do not intend on giving your mother any further opportunity to have a dig.”  
  
After breakfast they busied themselves with the Christmas Day preparations. Patsy helping Emlyn set out the dining table and Delia assisting Mam in the kitchen.  
They chatted happily as they worked and the atmosphere was cheery and relaxed – due in large part to her father’s infectious Christmas spirit. Once or twice however, Delia noticed Mam pausing and appearing quite tense, as though on the verge of speaking, but rather than voicing her thoughts, she seemed to stop herself short – in effect, biting her tongue.  
  
Delia’s brother David arrived just after noon with his wife Sarah and after warm greetings, Christmas presents were exchanged and opened, and then Christmas dinner was served.  
It was so good to see David again after so long. Delia had forgotten just how like their father he was, ever cheerful (infuriatingly so sometimes), they were like the proverbial _peas in a pod_. She looked round the table at her family then and felt her heart swell at the sight of Patsy amongst them. She smiled as she watched David, who sat with Patsy on one side and Sarah on the other, as he happily recounted some ribald tale from his youth – Patsy suppressing a snort at the punchline and Sarah shaking her head and rolling her eyes.  
  
Soon it was time for the Queen’s Speech and as the Busby’s tiny black and white TV set was turned on and tuned in, Emlyn hurriedly poured them all a tot of his best brandy to toast Her Majesty with.  
Just as they drained their glasses to the Monarch however, David cleared is throat, “Charge our glasses again Da’, because Sarah and me… well we ‘ave some news for you.” He paused as their glasses were refilled and Delia noted Mam sitting forwards in anticipation, as though she knew what was coming…  
  
“We’re having a baby!”  
  
They all raised their glasses in a toast, and amongst the cries of congratulations Mrs Busby exclaimed, “Oh David, that’s wonderful news! Grandchildren – finally!”  
  
Then her gaze fell on Delia and lingered there.  
Was it sadness, or disappointment that was directed her way? Delia didn’t know, but she felt stung and a heat was rising in her cheeks just as surely as if her mother had crossed the room and slapped her…  
  
Then she felt warm fingers brush briefly and lightly against her arm and she turned to see Patsy’s steady gaze. There was a hint of concern visible in the ice-blue – she had clearly witnessed Mam’s silent rebuke even if no-one else had.  
Drawing strength from Patsy’s presence Delia took a calming breath, and rather than give voice to her annoyance at Mam’s slight, she turned to David and Sarah, “Oh I can’t wait to be an Aunty!” she exclaimed in genuine delight, “And you know, I’m training to be a midwife – I should find out in the next few weeks if I’ve passed the final exams – so, if you ever need any advice during the pregnancy, I’m only a phone call away,”  she glanced at Patsy before adding, “We both are.”  
From the corner of her eye, she noticed with some satisfaction her Mam’s posture stiffen ever so slightly.  
  
Patsy squeezed her arm gently before chiming in, “Yes, and I have every confidence that you’ll pass Deels – and go on to be a wonderful midwife.”

* * *

  
  
After moving from the dining table to more comfortable seating by the fire, they played charades well into the evening until Emlyn began struggling to hide his yawns and David and Sarah announced they were setting off on the drive back to Swansea.  
“The roads are still quite snow-bound, so we don’t want to leave it too late before setting off,” David explained as they said their goodbyes, before pulling Delia into a bear-hug and adding, “Merry Christmas Sprout, Don’t leave it so long before you visit again, do you hear?”  
  
Delia hugged him back tightly, “I won’t, and I meant what I said earlier – if you need any advice – just call us.”  
  
They stood in the doorway and watched as David and Sara’s little Ford Anglia pulled away from the kerb. Emlyn finally let go of a huge yawn and then covered his mouth self-consciously, “Good Lord, do excuse me ladies – I really am worn out!” he shut the front door against the freezing air outside, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head off to bed.”  
  
“I second that,” Delia replied, “but what a lovely day – and made even better with David and Sarah’s lovely news.”  
  
“Indeed!” Emlyn agreed “well goodnight all, sleep well and Merry Christmas!” he called over his shoulder as disappeared down the hallway  
  
“Goodness, it is rather late,” said Mrs Busby glancing at her watch and then to Delia and Patsy, “are you two turning-in as well then?”  
  
“Yes, I think we will Mam – goodnight and Merry Christmas!” Delia replied around a barely-suppressed yawn of her own.  
  
They’d only gone a few steps down the hall when Mrs Busby’s voice came after them, “Oh, Patsy… would you mind giving me a hand just now to put the good crockery away in the top cupboard – you’re the tallest one here and it’ll save me having to get the steps out…”  
  
Patsy halted and glanced at Delia, eyebrow arched quizzically, to which Delia shrugged and raised her own eyebrows in return.  
“Certainly Mrs Busby…” Patsy replied as she turned and followed Delia’s mother back into the kitchen.  
  
Delia yawned again and took a few more steps down towards their room. And then she stopped.  
Her brows furrowed in confusion: Mam was perfectly capable of reaching all the kitchen cupboards… Delia had seen her do it easily on several occasions during the day. She spun round on her heel with the intention of finding out just what Mam was up to, when the next thing she heard stopped her in her tracks.  
  
There was the unmistakeable sound of crockery being put down heavily onto a work surface with a loud nerve-jangling rattle. Then one of Mam’s dramatically loud sighs…  
And then she spoke. Low and quietly menacing. Delia knew that tone all too well – she’d been on the receiving end of it often enough – and she found herself rooted to the spot like a scolded little girl, unable to go to Patsy’s aid.  
  
She heard the soft rustle of clothing as presumably Mam turned round from the kitchen counter to face Patsy.  
  
_“Just what is it that you think you can offer her?”_  
Mam’s voice drifted out into the hall in a hissed whisper.  
_“What kind of life can you_ possibly _give her?”_  
  
Silence.  
Delia could imaging Patsy taking the impact of the verbal blow and then pulling herself up to her full height – she was indeed the tallest one here.  
  
After a beat she heard Patsy speak – equally low but certainly not cowed – the formidable Nurse Mount was most definitely in the room.  
“Mrs Busby,” Patsy began, her voice steady and measured, “Clearly you’ve failed to notice that Delia does not need anyone to _give_ her a life, as you put it. She chooses her own path in the world and believe me when I say that I thank my lucky stars for the day our two paths crossed and for every day since that Delia _chooses_ to be with me. I cannot imagine my life without her and nor do I wish to – she makes me happy beyond anything I could ever have imagined.”  
  
Delia felt suddenly faint as her heart swelled with love and pride… it was hammering in her ears and threatening to drown out the tense duel taking place in the kitchen.  
  
Patsy continued undaunted now – hitting her stride.  
“You ask me what I can offer her? Well, if what you mean by that is children – which of course, you do – then you have made your point. However, Delia and I have discussed this very topic at length and we _both_ agree that neither of us need to have children ourselves to be fulfilled. I will concede that perhaps that is in part why we do the work we do, but Delia thrives on that work. We both do. Furthermore – and I would not normally stoop to the vulgarities of discussing wealth, but I feel that you are somewhat forcing my hand so, all I will say on that matter is this – should she _choose_ to spend her future with me, Delia will have a very secure one. But more than that, the thing that I most certainly _can_ offer her in abundance is a lifetime of being loved – and believe me, she will never want for that. Isn’t that what she deserves – a life filled with love? Isn’t that – above all else – what you would wish for your daughter Mrs Busby?”  
  
There was a _long_ pause.  
Delia didn’t know what to do. She was stunned. She couldn’t move from her position halfway down the hall.  
No one had _ever_ spoken to Mam like that – and she’d never heard Patsy speak so passionately – she felt humbled, and overwhelmed with love and admiration for her glorious, magnificent Pats.  
  
Finally the brittle silence was broken.  
  
_“…Mrs Busby…?”_ Patsy’s low tones, rich and clear.  
  
Delia heard Mam sigh again.  
Only this time there was no harshness to the sound, no more malice. In fact, she sounded almost defeated.  
When she finally spoke it was in hushed tones and all she said was: “Please. Call me Carys.”  
  
Delia blinked… was this actually happening?  
Suddenly she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder and she almost cried out in fright. Whirling round, she found herself staring into Da’s kindly face. She took a shuddering breath and swallowed thickly around the huge lump in her throat.  
  
How long had he been there? How much had he heard?  
  
“Steady Sprout!” he whispered, “I only got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, and all I can say is – I’m glad I did,” he patted Delia on the shoulder and added, “Your Patsy is quite something, isn’t she?”  
  
Quite something?  
She’s _everything._  
  
“Yes, she is.” Delia replied hoarsely. It seemed wholly insufficient but right at that moment, it was all she could manage.  
  
“Well, then,” said Da’ brightly, “I’ll just go and get that glass of water and maybe break the ice in there shall I?” then he added with I wink, “Although, I think Patsy has already made a good start at thawing the Ice Queen.”  
  
Yes, thought Delia – yes she had.

* * *

  
  
_**Nonnatus House, Monday the 21st of January 1963, 11:35pm.**_  
  
Delia pushed wearily through the heavy wooden door of Nonnatus House.  
Her shift on the maternity ward should have finished at eight o’clock, but a difficult delivery followed by the laborious trudge through the snow-blocked streets of Poplar meant that she was only just now arriving home.  
The huge house was silent save for the occasional creak and groan from deep within the walls as the innards of the ancient building shivered and shuddered against the cold. The hallway was deserted, but someone was in the kitchen... perhaps the kettle was on thought Delia, as she made a bee-line for the welcoming light at the end of the hall. She dropped her coat over the back of one the chairs at the large dining table, and then her heart flipped as she saw Patsy by the kitchen stove in the act of pouring steaming-hot liquid from a pan into two mugs.  
  
“Hello Deels!” she said smiling, as she brought the mugs over to the smaller table within the kitchen itself, “I thought you might need a little something to put the heat back into your frozen bones.”  
  
Delia flopped down into one of the chairs as exhaustion finally took hold. “You really are an angel Pats,” she gratefully accepted one of the steaming mugs adding, “ _And_ a sight for sore eyes too!”  
  
Patsy grinned and nodded at Delia’s mug, “It’s you’re favourite – bournvita with a generous dash of whisky.”  
  
“Have I actually died and gone to heaven?” Delia chuckled, then her stomach let out a loud rumble, “Lord, I’m famished! I don’t suppose there’s any cake – or is that just too much to hope for?”  
  
“As it happens there is!” Patsy said over her shoulder as she made her way to the cupboards, “I secreted it here before Sister Monica Joan could even get a sniff of it,” she reached up and retrieved a tin from the highest shelf and brought it back to the table. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed as she opened the lid with a flourish, “Madeira cake!”  
  
“Can this scenario possibly get any better?” Delia enquired as she helped herself to a slice of the sweet sponge cake.  
  
“I think it just might… on at least two counts,” Patsy replied as she pulled two large envelopes from her dressing-gown pocket and placed them on the table between them. One had been opened, the other remained sealed.  
  
Delia took a large gulp of bournvita, “What are those?” her brows knitting together slightly.  
  
Patsy put her hand on the envelope which had already been opened, “Well, this one contains all the legal documents pertaining to my father’s estate – but that one…” she pointed to the unopened letter, “…arrived this morning and is addressed to you – and I think we both know what it might contain.” With her elbows on the table she steepled her fingers touching them briefly to her lips, “So, I propose that we put and end to any further suspense and open it now.”  
  
Delia hesitantly lifted the envelope. She turned it over in her hands and noted the return address _'Central Midwives Board for England & Wales'_, she slid one finger under the edge of the sealed flap.  
And then stopped.  
  
She glanced at Patsy, “I can’t, I’m scared!”  
  
Patsy smiled, “Deels, you’re the bravest person I know…”  
  
Delia shook her head, “I need a moment – can we talk about your envelope first?”  
  
Patsy nodded, “Of course.”  
She removed the papers from the envelope and spread them out on the table between them, then she reached for Delia’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Deels, I’m not entirely sure where to start as there’s so much for us to think about, but at this juncture at least, I shall endeavour to simply summarise.”  
  
Delia nodded, “Certainly sweetheart – do continue…”  
  
Patsy took a deep breath, “Well, the upshot of it all is that we now have quite a significant sum of money, as well as the deeds to two properties – one in London and another in Brighton.”  
  
Delia stopped her with a gentle squeeze of her hand, “Pats…” she began, “all of this is yours – you’re father left it to _you_ …” but she herself was cut off with another squeeze on her own hand.  
  
“No Deels, it’s _ours_. I don’t want any of it if I can’t share it with _you_.” she gazed at Delia earnestly, “One of the things I did today as part of the proceedings was make a will. It will all be yours anyway… should things… turn out that way…”  
  
Delia was shocked, “No Pats, I can’t bear the thought of that!” sudden unexpected tears began to well, her eyes threatening to brim over.  
  
Patsy smiled softly, “I’m sorry Deels, I know it sounds horribly morbid, but it’s actually a good thing. Think of it this way: should anything happen to me, my father’s legacy will be in the safest pair of hands I can think of – I know he would be more than happy with that – I certainly am.”  She placed a light kiss on Delia’s knuckles, “So that aside, let’s focus on the positive side of this. It’s enormously exciting – I mean, this could really be the beginning of the rest of our lives together!”  
  
Delia laughed through her tears – she couldn’t help it – Patsy’s enthusiasm was infectious. In fact, she was certain she’d never seen her quite so excited about the future.  
  
“Come then Deels,” Patsy grinned and nodded towards the as yet unopened envelope, “Your turn!”  
  
Delia hastily wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.  
“OK..” then she quickly tore the flap open. Reaching inside, she gingerly removed the letter and held it up before her, then read the contents out loud:  
  
_“The Central Midwives Board for England & Wales do hereby recognise that Delia Busby, SRN is now a State Certified Midwife.”_  
  
Her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief and her eyes re-read just to be sure, “I passed,” she whispered almost to herself, then louder, _“I passed!”_  
  
Patsy laughed and pulled her into a hug, “Of course you passed – just as I knew you would – you’re a Midwife Deels!” Then gently releasing the dazed brunette, she reached into her dressing gown-pocket and produced a small box which she placed on the table. “I got you something to mark the occasion…”  
  
Delia picked up the box and examined it, her face quizzical.  
It was only slightly larger than a cigarette packet and tied with a yellow ribbon. She undid the ribbon and carefully lifted the lid, and there – nestled inside on a bed of tissue paper – was a beautifully ornate silver belt buckle. She lifted it from the box and held it in the palm of her hand, it felt surprisingly heavy…  
  
“Patsy it’s beautiful, and so thoughtful of you… thank you…” she whispered. “I’ve never actually had one of these. When I graduated as a nurse, I only ever wore the plain NHS standard-issue buckle. My family don’t know about this tradition – but then I suppose I don’t really tell them much about my work, do I?”  
  
“Perhaps you should tell them a little more often?” Patsy suggested gently.  
  
“I know I should, but Mam makes it so difficult sometimes…”  
  
Patsy smiled, “Give her a chance Deels, you might be surprised at just how proud of you she really is, even if she does have an odd way of showing it sometimes.”  
  
Delia chewed her lip and nodded, “Pats… I didn’t say anything at the time, but I overheard what you said to Mam at Christmas… and so did Da’…”  
  
Patsy shot her a worried glance, _“Oh…”_  
  
Delia smiled softly and continued, “… and I’ve never felt more proud to have you in my life than I did right then,” she pulled Patsy close and added, “and Da’ was mightily impressed too!”  
  
“Ah…” was all Patsy managed before Delia silenced her with a kiss.  
  
When they parted, Patsy rummaged in her gown pocket for a third time and produced another, albeit smaller envelope.  
  
“Pats, just how deep are those pockets of yours?” Delia enquired with a grin.  
  
Patsy arched an eyebrow, “Not so deep that I can’t reach the bottom.”  
She held the enveloped between them and seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment before speaking a little hesitantly, “Deels… I know you’ve literally just qualified… but what would you say to taking a little time out? The past few months have been such a whirlwind and I feel as though we need to stop and catch our breaths... to pause and take stock before we plunge forwards into our future.”  
  
Delia considered this for a moment, “What do you have in mind?”  
  
“Well,” Patsy began, “I though perhaps we could go travelling for a little while? There’s so much of the world to see, and I want us to see it together.”  
  
Delia nodded, “I’d _really_ like to do that with you Pats.”  
  
Patsy tilted her head and gazed at Delia for a long moment.  
Then she smiled lopsidedly and leaned forward conspiratorially, “Well then, it’s a good thing I got these…” she whispered, before plucking two open-ended BOAC tickets from the envelope, “…how do you feel about Africa…?”  
  
Delia shook her head and smiled wryly, “You know, it’s almost as though you’ve planned this…” then leaning forward she placed a chaste kiss on Patsy’s cheek, “…and to answer your question I’d say yes – wherever you go, I go.”

* * *

  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh these updates are sparse aren't they?!  
> ...so I started this thing and I'm determined to finish it. 1: because I thoroughly enjoy writing it, and 2: because I hate leaving things unfinished....  
> I just wish I had more time to devote to it :-(
> 
> Despite my time issues, this chapter was fun to write.  
> I may have given Mrs Busby a tougher time than she deserves here – but I thoroughly enjoyed doing it – sorry Mrs B!!  
> I just really wanted her and Patsy to have proper toe-to-toe show-down... and for Patsy to come out on top... obvs... ;-)
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter notes:  
> Belt buckle - It is the tradition for trained nurses to wear a buckle on their belt; this is usually silver and is often Victorian in style.  Families of newly qualified nurses would often purchase a buckle as congratulatory present on graduating. This is the only bit of individuality that was allowed in a nurse's uniform.  The buckles were normally worn with a petersham belt (petersham being a kind of material).
> 
> BOAC - British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) was the British state-owned airline created in 1940 by the merger of Imperial Airways and British Airways Ltd. It continued operating overseas services throughout World War II. After the passing of the Civil Aviation Act of 1946, European and South American services passed to two further state-owned airlines, British European Airways (BEA) and British South American Airways (BSAA). BOAC absorbed BSAA in 1949, but BEA continued to operate British domestic and European routes for the next quarter century. A 1971 Act of Parliament merged BOAC and BEA with effect from 31 March 1974, forming today's British Airways.


	7. I love the way your touch is always heavenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia's relationship teeters on the cusp of something momentous...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the avoidance of doubt, this chapter is most definitely rated 'M' for Mature... ;-)

* * *

**_Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 12:30pm_ **

Delia checked her watch again and then contemplated her outfit, which now lay spread over the foot of the bed. She’d chosen a classically simple dress in ivory satin, with a fitted bodice and a hem that fell just below her knee. It had a matching bolero-style jacket and a wide-brimmed hat – _and_ a pretty little fascinator. When she’d ordered the outfit, she’d been unable to choose between the hat and the fascinator, so she’d purchased both in the hope that her resolve would become more focused by necessity on the big day.  
****

It hadn’t.

Putting on the dress, she reached round to her side and began fumbling with the zip on the bodice, her fingers stubbornly refusing to obey any commands from her brain.

“Pats?”

“Hmmm?” came the reply from the bathroom.

“Hat or fascinator?” Delia queried, glancing at the accessories laid out on the bed, “I can’t decide…”

“Fascinator,” came the immediate response from the bathroom. Patsy appeared at the bathroom door a moment later and added, “I want to be able to see your face darling – please don’t hide it under the brim of a hat.”

Delia nodded and smiled – Pats always knew exactly what to say when it mattered most – and watched her love cross to the dressing table and retrieve her earrings. She looked gorgeous in a sharply tailored trouser suit, the single-breasted jacket over a halter-neck top, all in the most beautiful shade of soft dove-grey. With her snow-white hair tonged straight and falling loose on her shoulders she looked elegantly arresting. Strikingly beautiful.

“You look stunning sweetheart,” Delia breathed, then eyes sparkling with mirth added, “And I can’t wait to officially take you up the aisle.”

Catching Delia’s look of glee, Patsy arched an immaculately sculpted eyebrow, “You really are incorrigible Busby, do you know that?” she stated in mock-shock. The hint of a smile began to tug at one corner of her mouth, “It’s a good thing I’m about to make an honest woman of you,” then her smile spread wider and beamed across her face, “Oh, you look so lovely in that dress Deels… I still can’t quite believe that we’re actually, _really_ doing this - that it’s really happening!”

“Well it might not happen at all if I can’t get into this dress!” Delia exclaimed in exasperation, still fumbling with the zip and checking her watch for the umpteenth time, “Pats, I fear we may be fashionably late for our own wedding!”

“Here – let me help.”

Patsy stepped in close and put her hands on Delia’s waist calming her love’s clamouring nerves, “Now, turn around for me so that I can see what the problem is…”

Delia obliged and Patsy stooped slightly to get a better look, “Ah, I see what’s happened – the zip has become caught on part of the liner – I’m going to just reach inside and free it. I apologise if my hands are cold…”

The physical expression of their love for each other had ebbed and flowed and ebbed again over the years – as one would expect in a relationship which had lasted as long as theirs – but occasionally still, as now, even the slightest, lightest touch from Patsy could suddenly awaken something deep inside Delia, stirring-up sensations and emotions she thought long dormant.

The gentle touch of Patsy’s hands right now – fingertips feathering lightly over the skin of her lower back – elicited an instant involuntary reaction within her. As her heart contracted and her skin shivered with pleasure, deep memories were roused – memories of far more ardent touches – of the first early buds of true desire…

 

* * *

 

**_The London Hospital, Whitechapel, Tuesday 5th of November 1957, 11:30am_ **

 …Delia knitted her brows and tried again to concentrate on the thermometer which she held between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. Her eyes and brain however (and a hereto unfathomable part of her somewhere deep, deep inside), seemed to have other ideas. She could not tear her eyes away from the elegant, blonde nurse opposite her on the other side of the ward.

 _Patsy…_ leaning over her patient to adjust a blood-pressure cuff…

The way the material of the otherwise unappealing pink uniform stretched taught over her upper back and shoulders as she moved… the way it followed the curve of her hips, swaying gently as she walked…somehow Patsy made the ghastly outfit appear completely alluring… Delia found herself standing mesmerised – right in the middle of a busy day shift – riveted to the spot as if nothing else mattered.

Since they’d discovered their mutual feelings for each other a few short months ago, almost all of their spare time was now spent together. As the long hazy days of summer shortened, and the leaves on the trees turned and began falling, Delia also found herself falling – ever more often into Patsy’s arms.

She smiled to herself.  
Although Patsy had never said as much, in Delia’s mind they were most definitely courting. Their customary ‘nightcaps’ were turning into something else entirely,there was a _lot_ of kissing for one thing, and those kisses were rapidly turning deeper, longer and much, much more intense. They’d also begun to hesitantly explore further, with tentative hands, mapping all the curves of their (albeit fully-clothed) bodies.

Until a week ago that is – when things had taken a rather exciting turn…

 

* * *

  
…It had happened after a pleasant evening spent walking together along the Thames at Wapping.  
On arrival back at the nurses home, they inevitably ended up in Patsy’s room sitting side-by-side on her bed and sipping a small tot of Johnny Walker each. Earlier in the evening the atmosphere between them had been light and breezy as they’d chatted and joked happily together about anything and everything.  
Now in the privacy of Patsy’s room however, all talk had ceased and there was an unmistakable frisson in the air. They’d only taken a few sips of whisky when Delia noticed Patsy looking at her intently over the rim of her glass, her ice-blue eyes grew noticeably darker and Delia found herself caught under the weight of the gaze.

Patsy reached out and touched her fingers lightly to Delia’s cheek, “You’re so beautiful Delia,” she whispered softly, “I just want to touch you… all the time… I just wish I could do that all the time.” Without breaking eye-contact Patsy took a quick sip of fiery golden liquid and set her glass aside. Delia did the same – and the next thing she knew Patsy’s full, soft lips were on hers in a heated kiss.

Closing her eyes and parting her lips she allowed Patsy access, and with whisky still on their tongues they explored and entwined. Delia’s heart was thrumming loudly in her ears and a rippling wave of warmth washed through her. She felt Patsy’s hand on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, then the other hand found her breast and brushed lightly over her nipple. Even through the barrier of her soft woollen cardigan she felt it rise to attention sending sparks flying straight to her core.

She _wanted_ Patsy. Wanted _all_ of her – to be consumed by her – and she knew she couldn’t hold it back much longer.  
With hands working on a will of their own she quickly pulled Patsy’s plaid shirt out of the waistband of her slacks, rucked it up higher and worked her right hand underneath. She was quickly rewarded as her fingers soon found what she’d been craving for so long – Patsy’s soft, gloriously smooth skin. With her heart fluttering excitedly in her chest she deepened the kiss, probing deeper with her tongue and at the same time tracing her fingers up over Patsy’s stomach. The skin there shivered and roughened instantly into goosebumps under her touch, emboldened by this response she went higher until she felt the soft swell of a breast… and then higher still until she found a nipple tightening and straining against the silk of a brassiere… and then Patsy froze… her eyes flew open and she broke the kiss.

Delia recoiled slightly and quickly withdrew her hand, she straightened Patsy’s shirt and then rested her palm lightly on Patsy’s waist – on top of her clothing, “God, I’m so sorry Pats,” she gasped as she caught her breath, “I didn’t mean to… I got carried away – I’m so sorry!”

Patsy closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Delia’s, “It’s OK Deels, please don’t be sorry… you just took me a little by surprise, that’s all… and then… well I didn’t know quite what to do…”

Delia chewed her lip and looked into Patsy’s eyes, “No, I’m really sorry Pats. Ishouldn’t have sprung that on you, I should slow down.”

Patsy smiled and placed a soft kiss on Delia’s lips, “It’s OK really, I wanted to… but I… I mean I don’t think I’m…” she pursed her lips, faltering.

“Quite ready?” Delia concluded gently.

Patsy nodded a little sheepishly.

Delia sat up and reached for her glass, “It’s OK you know… I don’t have a clue what I’m doing either,” taking a sip of the warming liquid, she took Patsy’s hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze, “Before you, I’d never even been kissed – not _properly_ I mean. You know… because a peck on the cheek from Aunts or Uncles doesn’t count,” she clarified with a grin.

Patsy raised her eyebrows, a little stunned at this revelation, “Never..?” she whispered gently, unable to quite comprehend that a captivating creature such as Delia had remained completely untouched until now.

Delia nodded “Never,” and then added, “I mean, don’t get me wrong Pats, there have been many times I’ve wanted to. Many times I’ve imagined what it might be like.”

Patsy smiled and nodded. “Who with? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, who caught your eye?”

Delia took another sip of whisky, “Well, at school there was my best friend’s older sister – I thought she was just so _lovely_ – and then there was my music teacher, Miss Cooper who was _gorgeous_ and who I had a _huge_ crush on. But when you live in a tiny fishing village in west Wales there’s nowhere to hide, so even then I knew I had to keep my feelings hidden.”

Taking a sip of whisky, Patsy queried gently, “And what about later, when you got older?”

Delia pursed her lips, “Well, as I got older and understood my attraction to women, I realised how difficult it was going to be to find someone else like me. Never mind find someone like me who also _liked_ me – even in a city as large as London – so from necessity, I’ve always been a little wary of revealing too much of myself.”

Patsy nodded in understanding, “For the same reasons, I’m the same,” then she lifted Delia’s hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles, “But I realise that we are also the _same_ , and I _do_ want what you want – I might just be one or two steps behind you.”

Delia smiled softly, “That’s alright with me, I’m happy to go at your pace.”

 

* * *

 

Their shift patterns since then had meant that they’d barely seen each other in over a week…

“Nurse…? _Oi, Nurse!”  
_ The voice of her patient snapped her abruptly back to the present, “Are you having problems reading that thermometer?” he grumbled, “Lord knows you’ve been staring at it long enough – do you want to borrow my glasses?”

“I’m so sorry Mr Baxter,” Delia replied briskly, “I think I’m going to have to take that reading again.” She shook the little glass instrument vigorously, venting her frustrations on it before quickly inserting it back under his tongue, silencing him before he could utter another word. She glanced across the ward and saw that Patsy had moved on to her next patient. She was looking forward to seeing her later tonight after their shift. Delia had volunteered to cover the Guy Fawkes bonfire in Victoria Park with the rest of the St John crew and Patsy had said she’d try to come along and meet her.

 

* * *

 

**_Victoria Park, South Hackney, Tuesday 5th of November 1957, 8:45pm_ **

The Guy Fawkes Day activities were proceeding smoothly and the bonfire was in full-swing when she saw the familiar form of Patsy wending her way through the crowd. Delia waved and caught her attention before turning to her colleagues, “I’m going to take a little break, I’ll be just over there if you need me.”  
****

“Hello Deels! I came straight here,” Patsy grinned as she approached, triumphantly brandishing a long, oblong paper packet, “And look what I found!”

“Sparklers!” Delia exclaimed in delight, “But they’re rarer than hen’s teeth tonight – where on earth did you find them?”

“Oh, I pinched them from a little boy at the park gates,” Patsy stated gleefully.

“Pats!” Delia punched her lightly on the arm, “Where did you _really_ get them?”

Patsy laughed delightedly, “The Mile End newsagent. His last packet, or so he said. Clearly he must have seen me coming as I didn’t get much change out of three shillings!”

They made their way around the outer edge of the crowd just as the firework display began. Gazing skywards with the rest of the onlookers, they watched for a few moments before Delia felt Patsy’s fingers find her hand and squeeze gently, then a soft puff of breath against her ear as she whispered, “No one’s looking at us, so I thought I’d take the opportunity – you don’t mind if I hold your hand a little while, do you?”

Delia beamed her full smile, dimples deeper than ever in the dancing shadows cast by the fire, “Of course I don’t mind!” she replied sidling closer and pressing up against Patsy so that their linked hands were hidden between them, safely from view. As the last few fireworks were being set Delia turned to Patsy, “Shall we light our sparklers before the crowd begins to disperse?”

Patsy nodded, “Good idea – come on lets have a bit of fun – I haven’t done this in years!”

They stepped back from the crowd and put on their gloves. Patsy ripped open the paper packet, pulled out a sparkler rod for each of them and lit them with her lighter. As the sparks flew off into the darkness they held the rods at arms length and began waving them around gently, drawing light-trails on the velvety black canvas of the night. Patsy glanced sideways at Delia and drew a love-heart in the air. Delia laughed delightedly and drew a heart of her own.

“Let’s see who can draw the biggest love-heart!” Patsy exclaimed, throwing down the challenge.

Delia accepted, “You’re on!”

Giggling and laughing as though they were twelve years old again, they threw glowing heart shapes at each other until, with the her very last sparkler, Patsy drew the biggest one yet.

“You win Pats – you have the biggest heart!” Delia admitted in defeat.

Patsy grinned and put her arm around Delia’s shoulder, pulling her close for a brief moment, “Perhaps, but I only want to win yours…”

Delia chuckled, “You know you already have… although, in this instance you do have an unfair advantage."

Patsy arched an eyebrow, “How so?” then gasping in mock outrage she added, “Are you suggesting I cheated!?”

“Yes – your arms are longer than mine – see?” Delia stated, Welsh lilt strengthening as she stretched her own arms as wide as possible in order to demonstrate.

Patsy laughed and grabbed Delia’s arm, pulling her away from the now dispersing crowd, “Come on, everyone’s leaving, are you allowed to go yet?”

 

* * *

 

They made it back to their rooms just before the ten o’clock curfew.

“Nightcap?” Patsy offered as they climbed the stairs.

“Of course!” replied Delia.

They entered Patsy’s room and shrugged off their coats, hanging them on the brass hooks behind the door. Rather than pour them a drink however, Patsy wasted no time in taking Delia into her arms, enveloping her in a warm embrace. Delia responded instantly, holding Patsy tightly around her waist as the taller woman whispered against her neck. “I’ve missed you this week,” she murmured softly, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot… actually, you’re _all_ I’ve been thinking about.”

“Me too,” was all Delia could manage before Patsy silenced her with a searing kiss.

She found herself marched briskly backwards, still wrapped in the embrace, still locked in the kiss, until her calves bumped gently against the edge of Patsy’s bed. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through Patsy’s soft fair locks and the kiss deepened with urgency. With breaths coming fast, Patsy’s hands found Delia’s breasts and she cupped them gently in her hand whilst her lips trailed soft kisses down the smaller woman’s neck from earlobe to collar…

And Delia was gone. Ready to surrender.  
Patsy’s fingers made quick work of unfastening the two buttons which held the apron of Delia’s St John uniform, and then with easy access to the tunic underneath she quickly unbuttoned it to the waist. Delia had stilled completely: eyes closed; blood rushing; tingling warmth spreading; thrilling at every touch… she felt a slight tug on her tunic as Patsy pulled it open… her skin prickling with anticipation and exposure to the cool air…

…and then nothing…

She heard a soft click and felt a sudden void in the room, along with a waft of colder air on her disrobed skin. Her eyes snapped open and she found Patsy gone and the door standing ajar. Delia blinked several times in an effort to ground herself, and gradually the warm mists of desire dissipated and her mind cleared. Hurriedly fixing her uniform back in place she ran out into the corridor – Patsy was nowhere to be seen – _where had she gone?_

Then she had an idea… running back into the room, she shrugged on her coat and grabbed Patsy’s before rushing down the stairs to the ground floor.  
Rather than exit through the main doors and risk being caught after curfew, Delia took a different route and found the small side door which led outside to the rear of the building. There was a secluded bench there under some trees which Patsy often used when she wanted a smoke and some quiet. The sound of fireworks still being set off across the city, punctuated the darkness with gunshot staccato as Delia rounded the corner of the building.

She approached the trees slowly in an effort to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom. There was only one solitary lamppost, it’s feeble light insufficient to the task, and only really succeeding at making the shadows appear even deeper. At first, the bench appeared empty, but as Delia’s eyes and brain decoded the shadows, she began to make out some familiar contours. Finally, her conclusions were confirmed as the tell-tale glow of a cigarette being deeply drawn on burned red-hot in the blackness, followed a beat later by a large plume of exhaled smoke.

“You must think me a heartless tease.”  
Patsy’s voice, low and morose drifted out of the shadows, then with the hint of a tremor she added, “Either that or just sad and frigid.”

“No Pats, I don’t think that at all – here – put this on or you’ll catch your death,” Delia said softly, offering Patsy her coat and sitting down on the bench next to her.

Patsy stubbed out her cigarette and gratefully accepted the coat. She buttoned it to the chin, and with some force she stuffed her hands deep into the pockets, “I’m so sorry Delia… I suddenly realised what I was doing – and then… well, then my brain just froze and I panicked…”

Delia smiled softly, “You don’t need your head to tell you what to do when your heart is already doing it, Pats.  You were doing everything right and it felt _so right,_ ” then dropping her voice to a whisper she added,“Believe me when I tell you that I’d have done anything you asked me to back there.”

Patsy nodded and sighed, “I know... but I don’t want our first time to be rushed… that’s partly why I stopped. I want you _so_ much Deels, it scares me sometimes just how much… but then I think – _what if I can’t give her what she needs?_ ”

“Pats… I trust you and I _think_ that you trust me. Perhaps all you need to do is trust your instincts a little more?” Delia suggested gently.

Patsy gazed at Delia for a long moment, her expression still and unreadable and then she spoke in barely a whisper, “I did that once before – trusted my instincts – and it led to a whole heap of trouble.”

Delia reached into Patsy’s pocket, took her hand gently and simply held it there, “Tell me what happened sweetheart.”

Patsy let out a long shuddering sigh, “I’ve never spoken about this to _anyone_ …” she began, then paused.

She squeezed Delia’s hand gently, drawing strength and gathering her memories, and then continued.  
“You know that after the war my father sent me to boarding school. I don’t think he knew quite what to do with me. I think I just reminded him too much of everything he’d lost… anyway… it was an all-girl school and it was there that I realised I was a little different from the other girls. I was best friends with a girl called Anna. We were very close, as close as best friends could be, but over time I began to have deeper feelings for her. It might have been love. It probably was… It certainly felt that way to my sixteen-year-old sensibilities. But like you, I never acted on my feelings – that is until one day after class when Anna asked me to meet her in the grounds by the boating lake. When I got there, she pulled me into the boat shed and showed me a bottle of brandy she’d stolen from her father’s study and smuggled into school. We sat there for a while amongst the old boats, talking and giggling and sipping brandy straight from the bottle… it felt so daring and so clandestine. And then she asked me to kiss her. And I did. I just followed my heart and kissed her. And it wasn’t just a little peck – it was a real kiss and all my feelings for her were released into it. And then she kissed me back, and it felt wonderful… And then before I could stop myself, I’d put my hands up under her blouse and…” Patsy faltered, halting her account.

“…And she rejected you?” Delia guessed, voicing it quietly.

Patsy nodded and sighed, “Spectacularly.”

Picking up the tale again she continued, “She pushed me away. Violently. Then she started calling me names… horrid, dreadful names. She said she’d only wanted to practise kissing with me so that she’d be better with boys. I was stunned. The very next day I was dragged into the Headmistress’ office. I felt as though I was in the middle of a waking nightmare. I denied all the accusations that were levelled at me, and although I hated myself for lying, it was all I could do. Lying was my only defence. Eventually, since it was simply my word against hers, they decided that it was just a silly spat between two teenage girls that had turned spiteful and nothing more was done. Anna on the other hand, had other ideas and rumours about me quickly spread. She made my life hell for rest of that final year at school.”

Delia felt heartsick at the suffering her beautiful Pats had endured, and was still bearing even now. _Patience…_ she wondered sadly… could her name be any more apt?  
She gently extracted Patsy’s hand from her pocket, raised it to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles, “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. But Pats, please know this. Although I really don’t know what I’m doing any more than you – in fact I’m probably a whole lot greener – what I _do_ know for certain is that there is no misunderstanding with us. I only want you. And I think that whatever you give me – whatever we can give each other – can only ever be wonderful.”

One corner of Patsy’s mouth tugged upwards in a hesitant half-smile.

Delia returned it with a soft smile of her own, “Perhaps all we need to do is just go slowly. We’ll know when it’s right.”

 

* * *

 

**_The London Hospital, Whitechapel, Tuesday 24th of December 1957, 12:30pm._ **

Soon the trees bared their limbs completely and the skies turned leaden, and on Christmas Eve, midway through their shift, Delia found Patsy in the staff canteen.  
“Hello Pats!” she exclaimed cheerily as she approached, “Listen, I haven’t got long, Sister wants me back on the ward asap – Mr Wilson has some strike-through on his ulcer dressings – but that’s another story. I just had to find you to ask if you have any plans for tonight?”

Patsy surreptitiously checked around her for any would-be eavesdroppers before lowering her voice, “Oh, you know – just some Christmas Eve snuggles…”

“Really?” Delia grinned, dimples in full force, “That sounds lovely… but how about some drinks and some dancing first?” Reaching into her tunic pocket she produced two tickets and handed them over with a little flourish.

“Tickets to the Junior Doctor’s Ball?” Patsy enquired, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t think there were any left?”

“There aren’t,” Delia confirmed, then added with a note of triumph, “But I just got these two from Julia Dixon. She was going with her boyfriend – you know, one of the juniors on ward three – but he’s having to go on-call tonight and she doesn’t want to go without him. So, I thought we might go. I mean, we’ll probably have to dance with a few doctors, but some of the other girls from our old set are going too, so it might be fun.”

Patsy smiled widely, “Yes, why not  – it’s Christmas Eve after all – when shall I meet you?”

Delia grinned, “Great! Knock on my door at a quarter to nine.”

 

* * *

 

The ball was being hosted at a private club on Shaftesbury Avenue and it was already in full swing when Patsy and Delia arrived. They presented their tickets at the door and were ushered in to the grand foyer of the club, which was dominated by a magnificent Christmas tree fully bedecked, it’s tinsel and lights glittering merrily.

Handing their coats to the cloakroom attendant they made their way into the club.  
They found a table near the edge of the large dance floor and soon a few familiar faces from their old set began to join them. As conversation, music and drinks began to flow, Delia marvelled at how Patsy appeared completely at home in these surroundings, as though in her natural habitat. She looked relaxed and stunningly beautiful in figure-hugging gold satin and Delia had to work hard not to be caught staring.

As she’d predicted, it wasn’t long before she and Patsy found themselves being asked to dance, and as the evening wore on they were on the dance floor more often than not.  
Mostly it was good fun and the majority of the junior doctors behaved in a gentlemanly manner. But now, as she was led somewhat clumsily around the floor in yet another waltz, by yet another spotty-faced first-year, Delia was beginning to think that perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She found herself scanning the dance floor and longing to be held by someone altogether more courteous and cultivated. To be held in a pair of much more slender and far more elegant arms. To be whirled around the dance floor, pressed against a beautiful warm body wrapped in gold satin… oh, how heavenly that would be…  
She smiled to herself as she allowed her imagination to fly.

“Ah, what luck – look here!” her dance partner suddenly leaned in and whispered in her ear.  
Startled and caught off-guard, Delia took moment to realise that the waltz had ended, and then a moment more to register the fellow’s meaning. Reluctantly dragging her eyes away from seeking out Patsy, she followed his gaze upwards… and found to her horror that he’d manoeuvred her under a large sprig of mistletoe suspended from the ceiling. Only then did she belatedly realise his intent.Wriggling out of his loose embrace, she managed to turn her face a split second before his lips made contact, forcing the kiss to land on her cheek rather than on her lips.

It was then that her gaze finally found Patsy.  
She was sitting at their table, the cocktail in her hand was suspended completely still before her, frozen in the act of lifting the glass to her lips. Her posture was rigid and motionless – she was watching intently.  
As their eyes locked across the dance floor, Delia saw several emotions flash over her features all at once.

Concern.

Envy.

Anguish…?

 

Oh, no!  
No, this couldn’t happen…  
Delia used her arms against junior’s chest, quickly levered herself fully out of his embrace and turned on her heel.

“Oh, I say! …Won’t you stay for the next dance..?’ he whined plaintively after her retreating form.

“No thanks!” she called over her shoulder, “I’m sitting this one out…” _…and every other one after that…_ she muttered to herself under her breath as she left the dance floor.

Weaving quickly through the crowd of party-goers, she made her way hurriedly to their table, but found to her dismay that Patsy was already gone. Whirling around almost 360 degrees she desperately scanned the room but still, Patsy was nowhere to be seen. Panic began to suck all the air out of her chest… _no, no this couldn’t happen_ … she absolutely _refused_ to be the source of any more hurt to her gorgeous girl… she had to find her. Had to explain!

Then to her absolute relief, she caught a flash of gold heading towards the staircase.  
Delia caught up with Patsy halfway down the stairs to the foyer. She placed a tentative hand on her waist and felt the friction of warm skin just underneath, moving against the thin satin as the taller woman’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Patsy slowed her pace and turned to Delia, her features now appearing calm and composed, “I’m sorry Delia… I think I need some air.”

Delia nodded, “Me too, I really want to get out of here now.”

They collected their coats and headed for the door.  
As they passed by the Christmas tree again, Patsy gazed up at it blinking rapidly, then with eyes glistening she reached out for one of its lower branches, letting the pine needles brush through her fingers before withdrawing her hand and plunging it deep into the pocket of her coat.

They descended the large stone steps to the street and stood quietly for a moment side-by-side, listening to the sounds of the city at night. Traffic humming and crowds thrumming with merriment, the air was charged with a palpable background energy. Delia opened her mouth – about to speak, to attempt to explain the recent turn of events – when Patsy broke the silence first.

“I can hear a brass band…”

Delia stopped, closed her mouth and listened… yes… she too could hear a band playing. Patsy turned in the direction of the music and linked her arm through Delia’s, “Come on – let’s find some real Christmas Cheer.”

Crossing Shaftesbury Avenue they entered a narrow lane and followed the beautiful melody.  
Recognising it now as the Christmas carol ’Bleak Midwinter’, Patsy squeezed Delia’s arm and leaned a little closer “This is my favourite carol,” she whispered, “And it doesn’t sound any better than this – played by a proper brass band!” She seemed more relaxed now, the visible tension appearing to seep out of her as the gentle strains of the music drifted towards them.

As they reached the end of the lane, it opened into a cross-roads of multiple streets joined at a single nexus point. The Seven Dials.  
Strings of Christmas lights were suspended between the buildings, casting a warming glow as they criss-crossed the seven lanes all around like the tendrils of some magically glittering ivy. In the centre of the cross-roads, on a little cobbled island was a small Salvation Army band and the source of the music which had attracted them. A small crowd had gathered and Patsy, her arm still linked with Delia’s, led them to join it.

Hidden away from the bustling city streets, it was a self-contained oasis of Christmas charm, as though they’d stepped through some kind of portal and straight into the pages of Dickens. The whole effect was quite beautiful and Delia found herself completely captivated. Patsy seemed similarly enchanted, her face glowed with a child-like delight and all trace of her previous woe was gone. Save that is, for one solitary tear which had escaped her eyelashes and now spilled slowly down her cheek, glinting like a perfect little jewel.

“Delia,” she whispered then, “Do you think you might ever… you know… want a boyfriend?”

Delia’s heart clenched as she gazed into those sad blue eyes, it was like seeing an angel weeping diamonds. So much beauty… so much pain…  
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “No,” she replied softly, “I’ve never wanted that Pats. I’ve always known that would never be a choice for me.” She reached up and used her thumb to gently wipe away the glittering tears, and continued earnestly, “I know you saw that young oaf try to kiss me under the mistletoe, but I didn’t want him to. That’s why I got out of there. I had to find you. I only ever want you.”

She glanced around at the seven streets radiating away from them.  
It was as though they were standing at the centre-point of a huge maze – in a portentous moment of convergence – and she wondered what route their lives would take from here.

Patsy tilted her head and regarded Delia for a long moment.  
Then her features curved softly into a lopsided smile and she tugged gently on Delia’s hand, “Come on, let’s find a cab.”

 

* * *

 

They arrived back at the home just before midnight. The usual ten o’clock curfew had been lifted over the Christmas period so that the nurses could enjoy the festivities – on the strict proviso of course, that they did not overindulge. As they made their way up the stairs, Patsy paused on the landing at Delia’s floor, “Mine?” she whispered. Delia nodded and they continued up the stairs to the floor above, making their way quickly to Patsy’s room.

Closing the door quietly behind them, Patsy turned the key in the lock with a soft ‘click’, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather we weren’t disturbed.”

“Not at all,” Delia replied, her tone a little huskier than usual, “I agree… interruptions would be bad…”

“Well, then. Please make yourself at home.” Kicking off her shoes Patsy extended one hand, “May I take your coat madam?”

Delia giggled softly, “Why certainly, you may!”  
Stepping out of her shoes she turned to afford Patsy easier removal of the garment.  
Her coat was deftly removed and she hadn’t even the time to turn again before Patsy’s arms were around her waist, warm hands resting low on her stomach.

“You look so lovely tonight,” Patsy’s breath puffed warmly and pleasingly into her hair, “I _so_ wanted to be the one dancing with you. To be the one holding you. To be the one doing this…”

Delia turned herself in the embrace and faced Patsy just in time to see her reach into her coat pocket and retrieve a tiny little piece of mistletoe.  
“Pats, where on earth did you find that?” Delia queried incredulously.

To her credit, Patsy managed to look contrite, “What, this? Oh, I pinched it from the Christmas tree at the club.”

Delia pursed her lips and suppressed another giggle, “Well I never… illicit mistletoe… just what am I getting myself into?”

Patsy lifted the little scrap of greenery upwards in one hand and dipped her head until their lips were almost touching. “How about this, for starters…?” she replied in barely a whisper, before taking Delia’s lips in a long, lingering kiss.

When the need to breathe eventually forced them to separate, Delia extended her hand, and with eyes glinting merrily she whispered, “You seem a tad overdressed madam… may I take _your_ coat?”

Patsy’s lip curved delicately at one corner, “Why, of course you may!”  
She turned, allowing her outer garment to be removed and then they took each other in a swaying embrace, holding each other close, leading each other in an imaginary dance.

Delia closed her eyes and breathed Patsy in… there was an exquisite sweetness there with a hint of something rich and earthy underneath. She felt the warm body beneath the fine material of the dress gently undulate against her, and each of her senses sprang into a heightened state. Every sight and sound of Patsy, _every touch_ , sending thrills of excitement coursing through her own body. She moved her hands downwards, skimming over the smooth gold satin and heard Patsy sigh as she reached the small of her back. Delia halted there, resisting the urge to caress the full curves of her bottom.

_Not yet… not quite yet… this has to be slow…_

“Is this an early Christmas present, Pats?” she enquired huskily, “Because with the way you’re dressed, I feel like I should unwrap you.”

Her impetuosity was rewarded with a throaty chuckle, “ You really are incorrigible Busby, do you know that? It’s a good thing you’re too gorgeous to resist!”  And with that Patsy turned, again presenting her back, this time allowing Delia access to the fastening of her dress.

 _Oh my,_ thought Delia, her nerves suddenly jangling and her heart beginning to thud, _we’re really doing this… this is really happening!  
_ Tentatively with fingers trembling, she placed her hands again in the curve of Patsy’s lower spine and, as the taller woman reacted to the touch and backed in closer, Delia momentarily faltered.

Then her instincts steadily took control… _take your own advice,_ they whispered, _listen to your heart…_

Suddenly this made complete sense, especially considering that the organ in question was now quite firmly beating out the tempo of this dance.  
She took a breath and calmed her mind, and then allowed her hands to move to the commands of her heart, gave herself over to its direction, as an orchestra would follow its conductor. Running her hands downwards, she gently cupped those glorious buttocks and then returning upwards again she ran her palms over smooth shimmering gold. Her fingers found yet more gold as they swept Patsy’s silky-soft hair aside to reveal at the nape of her neck the little metallic zip tab. Grasping it gently she slowly began to unzip…

As the zip travelled ever lower, Patsy flexed her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her own waist, almost as though embracing herself. This movement parted the gold satin further and began to reveal tantalising glimpses of smooth, pale flesh. Delia took it lower still until the zip reached it’s termination point… and again she found herself at that beautiful curve in the small of Patsy’s back.She touched her fingers lightly to the sliver of exposed skin there, and felt Patsy shiver and sigh. Slipping her fingers further under the edges of the satin, she slowly peeled the fine material from the skin and eased the dress gently away over Patsy’s shoulders, letting the bodice fall to her waist.

Delia paused for a beat and let her eyes absorb the sight before her.

The graceful poise of the neck leading delicately to shoulders.  
Almost translucent skin over defined shoulder-blades.  
The line where waist met hips in a curve so perfect it would surely rival even the finest Stradivarius.

Laying her hands on that perfect waist she felt warm goosebumps rise under her palm, then she slipped her fingers under the edge of the satin again, slowly easing it down over hips and thighs, before letting the dress drop to the floor where it lay in a shimmering pool. Patsy took that as her cue, and stepped elegantly out of it.  
Next Delia dropped slowly to her knees and carefully unhooked stockings, rolling them gently down the length of Patsy’s long, lithe legs and feeling the taller woman tremble under her touch.Next she removed Patsy’s suspender belt, and then finally, she worked her fingers into Patsy’s knickers and took them down to the floor. 

Rising to her feet again, she traced a finger slowly along the length of Patsy’s spine, and was rewarded as a soft _“Oh”_ escaped her lips. Reaching the clasp of the brassiere she gently unhitched it and then slipped the straps from her shoulders and let it fall to reside with the rest of Patsy’s clothing.

A gift unwrapped.

She leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss between Patsy’s shoulder-blades, “You are so beautiful sweetheart,” she whispered. Then stepping around and in front, reversing their positions, she presented herself to Patsy for similar attention. “Would you..?” She whispered softly over her shoulder.

“With pleasure,” came the husky reply along with a delightfully soft puff of breath on the back of her neck as Patsy stepped in close.  
Dextrous fingers quickly freed Delia’s hair from its high pony-tail, gathered the glossy locks together and let them fall in a cascade over her shoulder and onto her breast. With a gentle tug between her shoulder-blades, she felt her dress begin to loosen and with it, the first caress of cool air on her skin. The next caress was all the more pleasurable as Patsy’s fingers gently explored underneath and slowly eased the dress from Delia’s body before dropping it to the floor.

There was a brief pause and then Patsy’s hands were on her waist and then dropping lower to rest hotly on her upper thighs. Delia sighed and shivered and leaned back, losing herself in the embrace… Patsy’s soft breasts and stomach pressed against her back felt simply divine… and wonderfully warm things were beginning to happen to Delia’s insides…  
The caress of soft lips on her neck and shoulders came next, and hands worked upwards again skimming lightly over her stomach, then upwards still, pausing to gently squeeze her breasts before fingers gently worked themselves under the straps of her brassiere.

“May I?” came the breathy request.

“Please do,” Delia smiled softly to herself. She was _so_ far gone now that any idea of resistance seemed utterly absurd. Which made her love Patsy even more for asking.  
Fingertips grazed her trembling skin, the straps fell from her shoulders, the clasp in the centre of her back loosened, and the garment was set aside. Just as the cool air began to prickle her skin, Patsy’s hands cupped her breasts gently and her nipples tingled and rose up under warm palms. Then those palms dropped again, down low over her stomach – and then plunged under the waistband of her knickers. Delia’s insides clenched with a surge of warmth as Patsy’s fingers found her soft curls and then dipped lower still… to be met with a warm slick wetness.

“Oh, my… _Deels_ …” Patsy whispered with a note of astonishment. She gently withdrew her fingers and turned the smaller woman to face her, gazing at her in wonder.

Delia felt a blush colour her cheeks.  
She rose to her toes, kissed Patsy’s neck and then whispered in her ear, “Sometimes I get like this just by thinking about you,” she placed another soft kiss, “Sometimes I don’t even need to touch myself...”

Patsy drew back slightly and blinked, her chest rising and falling rapidly, she swallowed thickly and held her lower lip tightly between her teeth. The thought of Delia in such a state of arousal was threatening to swamp any resolve she had left of taking things slowly.

Delia watched as Patsy’s expression quickly changed from one of wonderment to unabashed desire, her normally serene blue eyes turning dark and stormy with a concentrated hunger.

“I’d very much like to take you to bed now…” Patsy murmured, her voice low and throaty, almost a growl.  
She hooked her fingers back into Delia’s underwear, quickly removing stockings and suspender belt which she tossed aside with an uncharacteristic abandon, before finishing with her knickers – which met with the same fate. She took Delia’s hand and led her towards the bed, then climbed on, knelt on top of the covers and beckoned for Delia to follow.

Delia’s heart urged her on and she quickly scrambled on and knelt before Patsy in the centre of her single bed.  
They stayed like that for several seconds, eyes drinking each other in, roaming over unfamiliar curves, memorising every inch of this newly uncovered virgin terrain.

It was Patsy who made the first move.  
She touched a finger to Delia’s lower lip, tracing lightly over the sensitive skin, “We must be quiet…”

Delia’s lips tingled under the touch and she nodded her agreement. All further talk ceased as they leaned in to one another, each seeking the others’ lips in an urgent kiss…  
Lips, warm and sweet, parting, tongues exploring, each chasing and finding the other. Patsy’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and then knees and thighs were slotted together, bodies fitting perfectly. And when Patsy’s breasts pressed against her own, Delia though she might die – she’d never felt anything quite so soft and so warm – it was simply heavenly. Taking another inch forwards, she raised herself up on her knees a little more, straddling Patsy’s thigh and then the dance began in earnest.

Patsy’s lips left hers and found a sensitive spot on the side of her neck that Delia hadn’t even known she possessed.  
A thrill rippled through her, sparking a chain reaction that went straight to her heart, inciting a sudden acceleration in tempo. Patsy’s lips continued their teasing and then one hand left Delia’s back, snaking round to her stomach, where fingertips slowly traced a path lower, down through soft curls, and lower still until they slipped gently into Delia’s soft, warm folds. A bolt of pleasure shot through her, the intimate contact causing her eyes to fly open and seek Patsy’s.

Stormy blue met with stormy blue and Patsy’s eyes asked the silent question – which was answered with an almost imperceptible nod of Delia’s head. Maintaining eye contact, she dipped two fingers into Delia’s well of liquid silk, coating them thoroughly and then sought out her sensitive little bud. Finding it with ease, her slick fingers slowly circled it a few times and felt it swell a little more. Utterly enthralled and in awe at the hidden secrets of the female body, Patsy found herself wondering at how something so small could hold so much power.…

And then she began to stroke it gently.

Delia sucked in a breath and then released it with a soft _“Oh”_ of her own.  
Every gliding stroke produced a gloriously warm tingle, _…up and down… and up and down…_ and with every one of those strokes a hot coil of pleasure began to tighten deep inside her very core.

Still gazing intently into the taller woman’s eyes, she gave herself over to Patsy wholeheartedly and completely, body and soul…  
Her gaze grew darker and she felt that powerful urge again – to be consumed by Patsy – only this time it was completely overwhelming.She raised herself up on her knees a little more, and grasping Patsy’s wrist she guided her deeper. Two long fingers slipped deep into the silken well and the heel of her hand produced the most exquisite friction right where Delia needed it most. She wrapped her arms around the taller woman’s shoulders, rocking against her with a rhythmic motion and the tingling coil of pleasure inside her tightened even more. With hips swaying against Patsy’s body she felt a wave of beautiful energy begin to erupt from somewhere deep inside and she knew she was on the brink. Finally breaking eye contact, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes and concentrated on riding the wave for as long as she could. Patsy must have sensed that she was close, because she cradled Delia more securely with her free hand in an effort to keep them both upright. Then suddenly, with three more quick undulations of her hips, she could not contain the energy within any longer. She drew in a huge shuddering breath and her back arched as her climax came in a crashing, rolling wave of ecstasy. She gripped Patsy’s shoulders tighter and her muscles clenched rhythmically around the fingers still inside her, and then the final surge of pleasure was released as she exhaled softly, crying her lover’s name quietly into her soft fair hair.

_“Oh… oh! …Patsy…”_

As Delia came, Patsy had thrown her free arm out behind her, bracing against the headboard to prevent them both from toppling to the floor in a tangled heap – all the while silently cursing the inadequacies of her single bed. But now, as the final tremors of Delia’s orgasm subsided, she regained her balance and cradled the smaller woman safely in her arms again, feeling the fluttering heartbeat against her chest before gently withdrawing her fingers from her body. She watched as Delia loosened her grip, sighed and smiled and then finally opened her eyes. The gaze that greeted her was soft and unfocussed and Patsy thought she appeared rather dazed… Mildly concerned, the nurse in her murmured, “Deels… Delia, are you ok?”

Focus gradually returned and Delia sighed happily around short panting breaths, “What? Oh, my… Yes, yes – I’m quite fine. I’m _more_ than fine actually…”

Patsy’s concern turned to relief and she smiled hesitantly, suddenly feeling absurdly bashful, “So… was it alright? I mean…how did it feel?” she inquired shyly.

Delia gazed at Patsy for a long moment… _how on earth do I describe rapture?_ she thought to herself. She tried to engage her brain but could find no words equal to the task.  All she could think to say was, “Let me show you?”

Patsy’s gaze darkened again and she nodded her assent.

Delia leaned in and captured Patsy’s full soft lips with her own, and with gentle pressure she slowly pushed Patsy backwards. As the taller woman unfurled her long legs from beneath her, Delia placed an arm behind her back, supporting her until she rested supine on the bedclothes, her golden hair halo-like around her head on the pillow. Laying down beside her, Delia deepened the kiss and felt Patsy relax into her arms, her breathing becoming deep and measured.

What took place next came purely from lover’s instincts.  
Using her fingertips Delia stroked the smooth skin on Patsy’s abdomen leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake, and Patsy moaned softly into the kiss and her body rose into the touch. Trailing soft kisses onto her neck, Delia paused and took the earlobe gently between her teeth and felt the body beside her begin to writhe a little. With more soft kisses she reached the elegant line of the clavicle, before mapping the trail further south to the warm soft mounds of Patsy’s breasts. Taking one in her hand she gently kneaded and caressed the soft flesh, whilst placing kisses around the nipple of the other. Patsy’s breaths came in short gasps now and the sensitive skin puckered under Delia’s lips and fingers as the nipples rose to attention. She gently rolled one between thumb and forefinger and teased the other with her tongue, before enclosing it with her lips and sucking gently.

“Oh!… _oh Lord…_ ” Patsy exclaimed softly as her hips began to rock and her chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

Delia released the nipple gently and raised her head to gaze at Patsy. Her eyes were closed and her eyebrows were beginning to knit together in an expression of intense concentration.  
She looked ready...

Delia had a sudden urge to explore Patsy’s most secret place with her mouth… but something told her that might be too much too soon… perhaps that might happen once they were both better versed in the art of the dance? So in a similar technique to the one Patsy had brought to play on her, she used her fingertips to seek out the fine, fair curls and then rested her hand there for a moment. Patsy responded to the touch immediately by parting her legs a little – and Delia took that as her cue to continue her exquisite explorations.She shifted her weight and hovered her body over Patsy’s before slipping her fingers gently into the soft folds…And she found Patsy so wet and so _ready_ that her own heart raced to mach her lover’s.

Ensuring her fingers were thoroughly coated, Delia waisted no time in finding her target – that secret little nub of pleasure. It was already firm and swollen, and as her fingers glided smoothly over and around it Patsy’s hips began to buck.  
Delia shifted position again, gently fitting her thigh between those two long legs.

Patsy was panting now, her breaths coming in short gasps. “Delia,” she whispered urgently, “You can go inside me now, if you’d like to…” then with another gasp, added, “…And don’t worry – you can put all of your weight on me… I think I might rather enjoy that.”

Delia smiled softly… _Oh Pats, sweet Pats… courteous to the last – even as you come undone…_ and then she obliged her loves’s wishes.  
Echoing her earlier experience, when it was she herself who’d come undone, Delia gently dipped two fingers deep inside, until they were securely encased in magnificently moist, velvety warmth. Flattening her palm, she made sure it contacted on just the right spot, then she pressed her thigh gently against the back of her hand before lowering her body slowly onto Patsy’s.

Patsy moaned softly, “Mmmm, yes!” and began rocking her hips in a measured rhythm. Delia found herself enveloped in long arms and they moved together in perfect unison, bodies rippling against each other with the glorious friction of skin on skin. Delia followed her lover’s pace, matching it and maintaining the intimate contact, thrilling and shivering as Patsy’s breaths came in short, sharp ticklish puffs against her neck. Suddenly, fingers gripped her buttocks, nails dragging across the skin, palms hot and pulling their hips flush together, and Delia felt Patsy tense and then arch up beneath her. Teeth grazed her neck and surprisingly strong muscles clamped down on her fingers, over and over in a rhythmic wave. And Patsy reached her peak and soared, hitting her climax with a soft shivering cry into the crook of Delia’s neck.

Patsy went suddenly limp as she collapsed into the pillows and Delia lay there with her, just holding her quietly until the last orgasmic tremors subsided and her breathing began to still. She raised her head and placed a soft kiss on Patsy’s cheek before slowly sliding her fingers free from her body. Then, with her chin propped in her palm, Delia gazed at Patsy for a long moment, gazing in awe at the expression of pure ecstasy there – an ecstasy that their love had created.

Patsy met her gaze, her eyes remained deep dark pools of blue.. but they were less stormy now… more serene.

“Was that alright sweetheart?” Delia asked softly, taking a lock of Patsy’s hair and threading it playfully through her fingers, “How did it feel?”

Patsy smiled lazily, “It felt like heaven, darling…”and then grinned widely, “I never imagined it could be like this…”

Delia kissed the tip of Patsy’s nose, “I know…” she agreed with a chuckle, “…And believe me, I’ve imagined this – a _lot!_ ”

They lay together for a while, limbs in a comfortable tangle until their skin began to cool and chill.  
Then they climbed under the covers of Patsy’s single bed, each falling again – this time into a blissful, dreamless sleep.  
And as the seasons had turned, their love had budded, then tentatively swelled, and now - even in the darkest depths of winter - it had burst into full bloom.

* * *

 

TBC...


	8. But Darling most of all, I love how you love me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy and Delia finally get to walk each other down the aisle.
> 
> Come on, get your glad-rags on – we've a wedding to go to!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains scenes of extreme fluff.  
> I think I may have reached critical-mass with this... fluff-meltdown...? maybe even fluffygeddon...??
> 
> Also, in my version of events Barbara is 100% fine and has lived a long and happy life together with Tom (just sayin')!

* * *

 

**_The Grand Hotel Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 12:45pm_ **

Delia shivered at the touch as fingertips lightly trailed over the skin of her lower back and Patsy finally managed to unstick the fastener of her dress.  
“Oh, I’m sorry for the goosebumps darling– are my fingers so cold?” the taller woman enquired softly, her voice rich and low as she gently eased the zip of the bodice into place.

Delia turned to face her love and smiled, “No sweetheart, your hands are lovely and warm...” Then she felt a sudden surge of love well up from somewhere deep inside and she pulled Patsy close, “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this day,” she whispered, “as though or lives have been converging on it from the moment we first met.” Then catching Patsy’s soft blue gaze she swallowed, “And now that day is finally here – and I can’t wait to be your wife!” she finished with a slight tremor, her voice suddenly hoarse with emotion.

Patsy’s lips slowly curved into a smile and she pulled Delia into a warm embrace, “And I can’t wait to be yours!” she echoed the sentiment earnestly, “We’ve already spent a lifetime together, but this special day is the crowning moment, and the beginning of the rest of it.”She tilted her head to wards the smaller woman and dropped her voice to a whisper, “I rather want to kiss you right now, but I won’t quite yet… Because firstly I’d smudge your lipstick – not to mention my own… and secondly – call me old fashioned – but I really want to wait until I hear the words _‘you may kiss the bride’_.”

Delia beamed a deeply-dimpled smile and blinked rapidly to stem her happy tears… the pragmatist in her would rather not have to re-apply her make-up again, _but there might still be time…_

Right then however, as if on cue, there was a loud knock at the door.

Both women started in fright – and jumped apart. 

Patsy glanced at Delia sheepishly, “We really must stop doing that…”

Delia giggled and shook her head wryly, “I know... we really should put that behind us once and for all – we’re about to make a public show of our love for heaven’s sake!” 

Crossing to the door, Delia grinned and threw it open – she knew exactly who was on the other side.  
As Matrons of Honour both Trixie and Barbara had also booked rooms in the hotel, and had promised to come and collect them as soon as the wedding cars had arrived.

“SWEETIES!!” Trixie exclaimed delightedly, “There you are – and don’t you both look utterly ravishing!” She was looking typically stylish herself in a buttercup-yellow ensemble topped with a wide-brimmed hat. She wasted no time in pulling them both into a hug and placing a light kiss on each of their cheeks.

Following on her heels was Barbara, now walking with a stick but looking nothing but elegant in cornflower blue. “Ladies, you look lovely!” she congratulated as she in turn hugged them warmly, “The cars are here – are you ready?”

“As we’ll ever be!” Patsy chuckled as she crossed to the dressing table and collected the two velvet boxes containing their rings. She handed them to Trixie and fixed her with her best no-nonsense ’Nurse Mount’ gaze, “Look after these, won’t you?”.

Trixie chuckled and rolled her eyes, “Of course I will!” then she quickly examined the contents of each box and paused, “Now hang on a minute Patsy… Which is yours, and which is darling Delia’s?” she queried, gazing at the identical rings, “I don’t want to hand you the wrong rings and ruin the moment…”

Patsy blinked, “Oh gosh – I hadn’t thought of that…”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I did,” Trixie replied smugly as she reached into her clutch bag and extracted two small lengths of ribbon – one in pastel blue, and one in white.

“You are a marvel Trix – have I told you that?” Patsy chuckled.

“Not nearly enough,” Trixie shot back with a grin, “Now then, which is which?”

Patsy carefully examined the two rings nestled snuggly in their midnight-blue velvet, then pointing out the box containing the ever-so-slightly larger of the two rings she replied, “Well, this one is mine…” then pointing to the other box added, “…And this one is Delia’s.”

Trixie nodded and tied the blue ribbon into a bow around the box which held Patsy’s ring. Then selecting the other box, she winked cheekily at Delia – and tied it with the white ribbon. She popped both boxes safely into her bag before turning to all three women, “Well then, since that’s taken care of – shall we..?” she enquired, before breezing out into the hallway.

As they followed in her wake, Delia glanced at Patsy and Barbara catching each woman’s gaze, she saw mirth sparkling there and she grinned… there could be only one Matron of Honour…

 

* * *

 

Two chauffeur-driven cars awaited them in the hotel driveway.  
For their bridal car, Delia and Patsy had chosen a  1949 Jaguar Mark IV  coupé. Immaculate in white with a champagne soft-top, the wedding ribbon attached to the classic silver cat bonnet ornament rippled gently in the soft sea breeze, as though the tiny little pouncing feline was caught in the act of running off with it. For Trixie and Barbara, they had chosen a 1959 Bentley S1, oozing class in silver and blue.

They descended the grand steps of the hotel and the chauffeurs simultaneously opened the car doors and dipped their heads as the ladies embarked, and then the cars pulled sedately out onto Kings Road, the bridal car in front.The journey was a short one, only a ten minute drive from hotel to wedding venue, but Patsy and Delia made the most of it. They sank back into the luxurious red leather upholstery and watched as the beautiful Brighton seafront glided by. Delia reached for Patsy’s hand and smiled as the taller woman squeezed it gently, shifting a little closer to her until they sat comfortably with their thighs touching. 

_No more hiding,_ she thought then.  
_No more holding hands in the shadows_.

She lifted Patsy’s left hand and kissed the ring finger, holding it to her lips for a moment before returning it to rest in her lap. Cradling it in her own hand. Feeling the warmth.  
The cars pulled off the main road and their wedding venue came into view – the Royal Pavilion, a regency-built pleasure palace which looked like something more akin to the reign of the Maharaja rather than chilly old ‘Blighty’. Although today, as its domes and turrets shone brightly in the early summer sunshine, Delia thought they could _almost_ have been transported to the mysterious East…

The cars pulled up in front of the grand entrance, and as the wedding party alighted, the Registrar, a kindly-faced woman somewhere in her fifties, came to greet them.  
“Good afternoon ladies, and welcome to the Royal Pavilion,” she shook their hands warmly, “All your guests are gathered in the Music Room, so if you’re all ready, we’ll begin?”

Patsy and Delia nodded mutely and stole a nervous glance at each other.

_We’re really doing this… this is really happening!_

The Registrar chuckled at their wide-eyed expressions, “It’s alright ladies, just try to relax and follow my instructions… and above all, enjoy it – this is the happiest day of your lives. Now, if you’d like to follow me – Patsy and Delia first – we’ll get started.”

Patsy reached for Delia’s hand and held it warmly in her own and then they were led through the grand entrance of the pavilion, down a long hallway and into the dazzling splendour of the Music Room.  
They had already viewed this room during the planning stages of their big day, so they knew what to expect, but seeing it now with all their guests assembled, it took their breath away again. Just behind them they heard both Trixie and Barbara inhale sharply in wonder as they took in the marvellous room for this first time.  
The extraordinary interior was lit by nine lotus-shaped chandeliers, and the walls were decorated with rich red and gold canvases. The windows were dressed with opulent blue silk drapes and the gilded domed ceiling, made it impossible not to gaze upwards upon entering the spectacular room.

The Registrar led the wedding party down a central aisle which had been created by separating the guest seating in half. All the guests stood to greet them as they entered, and Delia felt the last of her nerves begin to calm as she recognised all the familiar faces of family and friends, old and new. She felt Patsy relax too as they nodded and smiled to their guests… 

Timothy Turner now a respected surgeon in children’s orthopaedics grinned and waved as they passed….  
Delia’s brother along with his grown-up children and their children – Delia’s nieces and nephews, and great nieces and nephews – waved excitedly as they made their way to the front of the room….  
Turning to face the happy onlookers, they watched as Trixie and Barbara took their seats in the front row. Trixie’s husband had passed away the year before last, but her son and daughter, along with their respective families were here and she seated herself amongst them. Then finally Barbara found her seat next to Tom and their son and grandchildren at the end of the row.

The Registrar waited for the guests to be seated and then spoke in a crisp voice – her tone warm and clear.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman and welcome to the celebration for the marriage of Patsy and Delia.”  
The guests settled and hushed and she continued, “This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned according to law for the celebration of marriage. This ceremony will unite Patsy and Delia in marriage and we are here to celebrate their union and to honour their commitment to each other. Today they will each proclaim their love for one another and we will celebrate with them and for them. If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage they should declare it now.”

Silence and a momentary pause followed, Delia squeezed Patsy’s hand gently and the taller woman smiled, her face calm and serene, and truly beautiful as she returned Delia’s gaze.

The Registrar smiled warmly at them both and nodded, “Good, then we shall proceed.”  
Clearing her throat softly she continued, “Marriage joins two people in the circle of its love. It is a commitment to life, the best that two people can find and bring out in each other. It offers opportunities for learning and growth and is both a physical and emotional joining that is promised for life. Marriage understands and forgives the mistakes that life is unable to avoid. When two people pledge their love and care for each other within a marriage they create a spirit which binds them closer than any spoken or written words. Marriage is a promise written in the hearts of two people who love each other, its promise is enduring. Ladies and gentlemen, before we proceed with the ceremony there will now be reading by Mrs Barbara Hereward, ex colleague and longtime friend of our brides.”

 Barbara rose from her chair and made her way to stand by Patsy and Delia, and then she spoke in those familiarly enunciated but ever-so-soft tones.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m so very honoured to be here today and to have been asked by our lovely brides Patsy and Delia to give a reading. I deliberated long and hard over what to write or what to say that could adequately reflect this momentously happy occasion. You’ll be glad to hear that I saw sense eventually and decided to leave it to the professionals, and in the end I chose this beautiful piece called  _River_ by the Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy. I chose this particular poem because the more I read it, the more I was mesmerised by its gentle flowing rhythm. This along with the words, I think echoes some of Patsy and Delia’s journey through their lives together to get to this day – this special day that has been so long in coming and which they deserve so much.”

Barbara paused for a moment and gathered her thoughts and then recited the poem from memory.

_ “ _ _Down by the river, under the trees, love waits for me_  
_ to walk from the journeying years of my time and arrive.  
I part the leaves and they toss me a blessing of rain. _

_ I drop my past on the grass and open my arms, which ache _  
_ as though they held up this heavy sky, or had pressed  
against window glass all night as my eyes sieved the stars;_

 _ open my mouth, wordless at last meeting love at last, dry _  
_ from travelling so long, shy of a prayer. You step from the shade,  
and I feel love come to my arms and cover my mouth, feel_

 _ my soul swoop and ease itself into my skin, like a bird _  
_ threading a river. Then I can look love full in the face, see  
who you are I have come this far to find, the love of my life.”_

Barbara turned then and placed a kiss on each of their cheeks.  
Patsy smiled, tears threatening to brim over and gripped her friend’s hand, “That was beautiful Babs – thank you so very much.”  
Delia could only echo that sentiment with a nod and a smile. Too emotional to speak she instead returned Barbara’s kiss, before her friend turned and took her seat beside Tom again.

The registrar stepped forwards again, “That was truly lovely Mrs Hereward, thank you.”

Then she focused her attention back to Patsy and Delia.  
“The purpose of marriage is that you always love, care for and support each other through both the joys and sorrows of life. Today you will exchange vows which will unite you in marriage. These vows are a reflection of your commitment to each other and give your families and friends the opportunity to meet together in celebration of your happiness, imparting their own messages of love and support. Before you are both joined together in marriage it is my duty to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. Marriage in this country is the union of two people, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others. I am now going to ask you each in turn to declare that you know of no legal reason why you may not be joined together in marriage.”

The Registrar turned to Patsy and said softly, “Repeat these words after me…”  
And Patsy spoke, the warmth of her rich contralto – sweet and low – filled the room, “I do solemnly declare, that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Patsy may not be joined in marriage to Delia.”

And then it was Delia’s turn and her nerves were beginning to jangle again. Taking a deep breath to steady her voice she repeated the affirmation, “I do solemnly declare, that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Delia may not be joined in marriage to Patsy.”

The Registrar smiled and nodded her encouragement, “Patsy and Delia, you have invited your guests here today to receive their encouragement and support and to celebrate with you at this special time.”Turning again she spoke first to Patsy, “I ask you now, Patience Elizabeth Mount, do you take Delia Busby to be your lawful wedded wife, to be loving, faithful and loyal to her for the rest of your lives together?”

Without being instructed to, Patsy had already turned to face Delia and now reached out and took both small hands in her own. She smiled and nodded and said reverently, “I do.”

Then the Registrar turned to Delia, “And I ask you now, Delia Busby, do you take Patience Elizabeth Mount to be your lawful wedded wife, to be loving, faithful and loyal to her for the rest of your lives together?”

As Delia smiled and her eyes met Patsy’s soft blue gaze, the tears of happiness she’d been valiantly holding back finally breached her lower lids and began tumbling down her cheeks, “I do.” she replied softly and her breath hitched a little.

Patsy quickly reached into her pocket, retrieved a handkerchief and then used it to gently dab the tears away – to which an almost collective sigh could be heard from the gathered guests.

Delia smiled through her tears, “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, “I’m just so happy!” and then she let out a nervous little giggle. There was a soft rustling sound from the onlookers then as many of the guests reached for their own handkerchiefs…

The Registrar gave them another encouraging smile, “It’s quite alright – please just take your time,” she replied softly, and when they were ready she continued the ceremony.

“And now we move on to the formal vows of marriage.”  
As she repeated the Registrar’s words, Patsy gently rubbed her thumbs over Delia’s knuckles almost unconsciously to the cadence of the vows, “I call upon these persons here present, to witness that I Patience Elizabeth Mount do take you Delia Busby to be my lawful wedded wife, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

Delia felt her heart swell in her chest, pounding out a radiating warmth and love throughout her whole being as she too spoke her vows, “I call upon these persons here present, to witness that I Delia Busby do take you Patience Elizabeth Mount to be my lawful wedded wife, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

“And now the exchange of rings,” the Registrar continued, “Patsy and Delia have chosen to exchange rings to seal the contract that they have just made. The ring is an unbroken circle, symbolising unending and everlasting love and is the outward sign of the lifelong promise that they have just made to each other.” She inclined her head in a nod to Trixie who, right on cue, stepped forward with the ribbon-wrapped ring boxes in hand.

Carefully untying the white ribbon from Delia’s ring box, Trixie opened the lid and offered it’s contents to Patsy who lifted it from it’s velvet resting place gingerly between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.  
Taking Delia’s left hand in her own she found her love’s gaze and then slipped the ring over the third finger and held it there lovingly as she spoke the Registrars murmured words.

 “I give you this ring as a symbol of our love. All that I am I give to you. All that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal, in good times and bad. May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today.”

Delia felt her heart flip suddenly, and as she lifted Patsy’s ring from its box she felt the love in the room like a physical presence.  
She took Patsy’s left hand in her own and slid the ring slowly and tenderly onto the third finger, then repeated the beautiful words clearly and with the full force of her love behind them, “I give you this ring as a symbol of our love. All that I am I give to you. All that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal, in good times and bad. May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today.”

Patsy squeezed her hands gently and smiled at her softly with a misty-eyed gaze, and then the Registrar spoke again.

“Today is a new beginning. May you have many more happy years together and in those years may all your hopes and dreams be fulfilled. Above all, may you always believe in each other and may the warmth of your love enrich not only your lives but the lives of all those around you.It now gives me great pleasure to tell you both that you are now legally married.” Smiling widely at them both she added, "Congratulations – you may kiss the bride!”

As their friends and family stood to applaud them, Patsy and Delia moved a half-step closer until they stood toe to toe.With their hands still clasped, Delia inclined her head upwards and Patsy tilted her face downwards. “I love you so much sweetheart,” Delia whispered softly as their faces inched closer still.

“And I love you darling – always and forever,” Patsy replied, her lips feathering Delia’s.

And then their lips met fully in a softly chaste – but lingering – kiss.  
When they finally parted the Registrar beamed happily at the newlyweds, “Congratulations!” and then she turned to the joyful guests, “Ladies and Gentlemen this is the conclusion of the marriage ceremony. Please be seated for the signing of the Register.”

 

* * *

 

After all legal requirements were complete, the wedding party exited into the grounds amongst cheers and showers of confetti. Photographs were taken against the Pavilion’s exotic backdrop and then they made their way to a grand garden marquee for the reception dinner.

Once all the guests were seated at their tables with drinks in hand, the inevitable sound of cutlery clinking against crystal rang out over the hubbub. All eyes turned towards the sound to find Trixie on her feet with a champagne flute in hand (filled with something suitably alcohol-free). Patsy glanced sideways at Delia, who raised her eyebrows and gave a little shrug… They had previously discussed Trixie’s role at length during the planning of their big day, but at no time had their old friend mentioned giving a speech…

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention for a moment!” her voice rang out crisp and clear, echoing silver against glass. “I feel that in my capacity as Matron of Honour I would not be fulfilling my duties if I did not propose a toast to mark this happy and momentous occasion.”

Delia grinned at Patsy and reached for her hand, and they both caught Barbara’s amused expression across the table, before Trixie caught their gaze again with an impish glint in her eye…

“When a certain Miss Patience Elizabeth Mount turned up on the doorstep of Nonnatus House more years ago now than I care to mention, I knew at once that I would never have my own way in the style stakes ever again.” She grinned and winked at Patsy as the crowd chuckled, “I also knew that I had met my best friend… despite her initial resistance of my efforts to be so. However as Delia will no doubt attest, if you give Patience enough time, she will slowly reveal herself to you. When I think back to all those times she rebuffed my attempts to fix her up with some eligible chap… countering every single one with a well-rehearsed excuse… Well, I never read any more into it other than surmising that she must already have one. As it turned out, I wasn’t _too_ far off the mark – except that I was so _far off the mark_ … And then one day Delia came to stay!”

Trixie paused then and blew a kiss across the table to Delia.  
“Darling Delia… before she came to join us at Nonnatus, Patsy had mentioned Delia in conversation on several occasions and I’d never given it a second thought. That is until one day I suddenly _noticed_ they way they _looked_ at each other,” she beamed a smile at the happy couple, “Ladies, I know you tried very, _very_ hard, but you simply cannot hide that kind of love! And I remember thinking to myself – _Oh gosh, I wish someone would look at me like that_. It was then that the penny _finally_  dropped and I realised that Patsy’s mystery chap wasn’t _actually_ a chap at all… And it became clear to me then, in a thunderclap of understanding, that my dear friend had been silently showing herself to me all along.”

Trixie turned her attention then to the gathered guests.  
“We’re here today to celebrate Patsy and Delia’s love and commitment to each other, but I would humbly submit that this has never been in doubt. These two wonderful ladies – our two dear friends – have been together as a couple for longer than any of us here today, and they have been quietly loving each other every single day from the moment they met. I am vexed that they have had to wait so long to have their love and commitment to each other recognised, but I am also so very deeply honoured and happy to be here to witness it, because I can think of no two people who deserve this day more. So, ladies and gentlemen please be upstanding and raise your glasses in a toast – to Patsy and Delia and their everlasting love!”

All their guests rose to their feet and lifted their glasses, “To Patsy and Delia!!”

Delia was suddenly so overcome that she hadn’t even noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks until Patsy leaned in and kissed one away, whilst using her thumb to halt the other.  Then lifting her champagne glass she indicated for Delia to do the same, “To everlasting love,” she whispered before touching her glass to Delia’s and taking a sip.

Delia raised her glass and took a sparkling sip, “Everlasting love.”  
Then she leaned in and took Patsy’s lips in a champagne-spiced kiss.

 

* * *

 

Soon dining gave way to dancing and Patsy and Delia found themselves the centre of attention again as the _first dance_ was called.  
They took the floor rather nervously at first, but as the opening lines of their song filled the air they soon began to relax.

 _I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me...  
_ _And when I'm away from you I love how you miss me…_

Patsy threaded her fingers through Delia’s, placed her other hand lightly between her shoulder blades and pulled her close.

_I love the way you always treat me tenderly…  
_ _But, darling, most of all I love how you love me…_

Delia rested her free hand in the small of Patsy’s back and eased into the warmth of the embrace.

_I love how your heart beats whenever I hold you…  
_ _I love how you think of me without being told to…_

They swayed gently together, eyes closed, losing themselves in the familiar rhythm of their bodies moving against and with one another and revelling in the intimacy of it.

_I love the way your touch is always heavenly…  
_ _But darling most of all, I love how you love me …_

And it was as though the present slowly drifted away and the music gradually transported them back.  
Back to a time and place where they had danced together – really, truly _danced_ together – for the first time.  
To a place where they had first tentatively stepped out of the shadows and revealed their love.  
Back to a haven which had kept that love safe from harm.

And now they danced together again like it was their first time.  
Slowly and tenderly and unafraid.  
Setting their hearts free to soar together.  
Into the light at last.  
Fearless.  
Safe in the presence of everlasting love.

* * *

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my little ode to Patsy and Delia's love-affair is finally ended.  
> I hope I've done their song justice, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it. It really has been a joy, made even more so by everyone who has read and taken the time to tell me their thoughts. It's been so wonderful to receive such consistently kind words of encouragement. It really does mean a lot - thank you.
> 
> I think this is probably all I have for dear Pats and Deels... unless they turn up in series 8 all tanned and toned from their globe-trotting adventures, in which case inspiration may strike again... I live in hope ;-)  
> I'm not going anywhere though – I'm sticking around to read all the lovely stories being written in this beautiful little fandom!
> 
> ———————  
> Chapter 8 notes:
> 
> The incident with telling the rings apart... that's from my own wedding ceremony. We wear the same rings - completely identical – the only difference being my wife's is a half-size bigger. I'm certain we get them mixed-up occasionally, although the half-size difference is only really noticeable on cold days – it starts slipping off my finger, and then I know I've worn hers by mistake... And then it's the other way round on hot days when she can't fit mine over her knuckle. Ha!... we really didn't think that through did we? :-D
> 
> The setting for Patsy and Delia's wedding ceremony – the stunning Music Room at Brighton's Royal Pavilion - check it out here... https://brightonmuseums.org.uk/royalpavilion/whattosee/the-music-room/  
> I didn't get married there (I got married on a canal-boat... in Scotland... on Friday the 13th... I'm amazed our guests turned up to be honest...), but since I've written Pats and Deels as living in Brighton (oh, and there's a whole other fic for that btw: "The Spirit of Elan"), I thought this would be the perfect venue.
> 
> River by Carol Ann Duffy. I read this poem at my friend's civil partnership ceremony a few years ago – so I thought I'd have Barbara read it for Patsy and Delia ;-)

**Author's Note:**

> FACTUAL NOTES
> 
> Same sex marriage:  
> While civil partnerships were established nationwide in 2005, marriage law is a devolved matter in the United Kingdom and therefore the legislative procedure of same-sex marriage differs by jurisdiction. The Marriage (Same Sex Couples) Act 2013, which allows same-sex marriage in England and Wales, was passed by UK Parliament on the 17th of July 2013 and came into force on 13 March 2014, with the first same-sex marriages taking place on 29 March 2014. The Marriage and Civil Partnership (Scotland) Act 2014, allowing same-sex marriage in Scotland, was passed by the Scottish Parliament in February 2014 and came into effect on 16 December 2014.
> 
> 'I Love how you love me' lyrics:  
> I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me  
> And when I'm away from you I love how you miss me  
> I love the way you always treat me tenderly  
> But, darling, most of all I love how you love me  
> (Love how you love me)  
> I love how your heart beats whenever I hold you  
> I love how you think of me without being told to  
> I love the way your touch is always heavenly  
> But, darling, most of all I love how you love me  
> (Love how you love me)  
> I love how your eyes close whenever you kiss me  
> And when I'm away from you I love how you miss me  
> I love the way your touch is always heavenly  
> But, darling, most of all I love how you love me  
> (Love how you love me)  
> I love how you hug me (love how you hug me)  
> I love how you squeeze me, tease me, please me  
> Love, how you love me  
> I love how you love me


End file.
